


Fade To Black

by StarryEyesAndSkies



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Violence, But everything else is up for grabs, Emotional Abuse, Everything is consensual, I will say there's no non-con, I'll warn when there's gore, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Stalking, Suicidal Ideation/Threats, This is a dark one and I'm not tagging a lot to avoid spoilers but watch out for:, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 97,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryEyesAndSkies/pseuds/StarryEyesAndSkies
Summary: After waking up from a coma with no memory of the past few months, the Nova Scotia police beg Duncan to help them catch a serial killer that has been terrorizing the province for the past year. He begrudgingly agrees to help by joining the cast of Total Drama Island, where he tries to find the identity of the murderer while dealing with a stranger from his past.
Relationships: Duncan/Mal (Total Drama), Duncan/Mike (Total Drama)
Comments: 86
Kudos: 92





	1. Euneirophrenia

A/N Back at it again. Here’s the fucked-up Malcan story I promised. I didn’t tag anything because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but this will be very dark (and full of twists and turns), so there’s that. Also, I always headcanon Duncan as an artist. It has literally no bearing on this fic. Enjoy. 

Chapter One

Euneirophrenia: The peaceful state of mind after a pleasant dream. 

Duncan never learned how to swim. He had plenty of opportunities- after all, Nova Scotia was completely surrounded by water, but nobody ever taught him. That’s why he stayed on the deck of his boat, allowing the waves to pull him further out to sea. 

He spent a lot of time drawing, or fishing, or simply gazing at the horizon. It was always warm out, and the sun created reflections on the surface of the water. Sometimes, he would peer over the edge and try to find fish swimming in the murky waves, but he never managed to see anything. Mostly, he stared at his own reflection, corrupted by the rippling waves. 

He didn’t have many complaints about his life on the sea. Except for the voices. Those were annoying. They came from the water, unfamiliar sounds and muffled speech. He had to strain to understand what they were saying. On this particular day, he managed to make out a few phrases. 

“Hey, what are we doing for lunch later?”

“I swear I need to quit drinking. I’ve never been this hungover.”

“This has been the longest shift ever, and it’s only been two hours. I can't wait to go home and watch Rachael Ray.”

None of it made sense. 

“Hey, what are you doing?” Somebody asked. 

“Who, me?” Duncan wondered aloud, not expecting an answer. They never talked back to him. 

“Yeah, you. Come here.”

Oh. Well, this was new. 

“Where?” Duncan asked. “Hello? Who are you?” He leaned closer over the edge of the boat so he could hear better. 

“Come here,” the voice repeated. 

“Into the water?”

No response. 

“Hey, are you still there? Hey-” he leaned too far. Duncan braced himself, but nothing could have prepared him for the icy temperature of the ocean. He had never been so cold in his life. It was an all-consuming sensation that gripped his entire body, paralyzing him. 

The other problem was that he was definitely drowning. 

Duncan flailed his arms and legs, desperately trying to grab the side of the boat. All of the sudden, his right shoulder began to burn. A searing, blistering pain crept through his chest, and any attempt at escape disappeared as he tried to stay conscious. Water forced its way into his mouth and up his nose, and the further he sunk, the colder it was, numbing his legs. 

“Hey… hey!” The voice returned. Duncan ignored it as he choked on saltwater, burning his lungs. 

“Wake up! Can you hear me? Hey… I need some help over here!”

The darkness of the ocean was replaced by a blinding white light as Duncan clawed at his throat. He couldn’t breathe. 

“He’s ripping out all of his IVs…sedate him… he’ll tear his stitches… I need 50 miligrams of...”

Duncan stopped fighting. He knew he had sunk too far down to save himself. His entire body suddenly became heavy as he closed his eyes…

“Hey, wake up!”

And opened them again. After a moment, the white light from before disappeared, and he wondered if he was dead. However, a quick glance through heavy eyelids revealed that he was in some sort of room, lying in a bed. 

“Can you hear me?”

A woman. The same voice as before. His vision cleared, and he squinted at the outline of someone standing at the foot of his bed. He was too tired to sit up or give a clear answer, so he just nodded his head, which still took a huge amount of effort. 

“We had to put you on some mild sedatives so you’d stop flailing.”

She came into focus as a young woman wearing a white lab coat and holding a clipboard. 

“I’m Dr. Romaro, I just need to ask you a few questions, then you can rest.”

He tried to answer, but found his voice incredibly raspy. 

“There’s some water next to you,” she nodded to a small cup on his bedside table. He only took a few sips- just holding that paper cup up to his mouth exhausted him. 

“Doctor?” He managed to whisper. 

“Yes, now if you’ll just answer these questions… Do you know where you are?”

“Um… a hospital?”

“Do you know how you get here?”

He could barely pay attention to what she was saying. Why was he in the hospital?

“Duncan, did you hear me?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Let’s try something else. What month is it?”

Was she serious? Of course he knew what month it was. After all, he had only been asleep for a few hours. So, it was… huh. Definitely Spring. Or Winter? He panicked a bit. How could he not know? What happened to him?

“March?” He took a random guess. 

“April,” she shook her head. “Duncan, how long do you think you were asleep for?”

This one was easy. 

“A day?”

“You were in a medically induced coma for two and a half weeks.”

Oh. Now it all made sense. This was some sort of elaborate prank. Any second now and a camera crew would walk in and reveal the whole thing. He stared at the doctor, waiting for that to happen. 

But she kept looking at him.

“Are you alright? Do you understand what I said?”

He really wished she would break character, but this woman was persistent. Duncan had to laugh. 

So he did. And then, he couldn’t stop. Why was he laughing? The joke wasn’t even that funny. He tried to sit up-

“Wait, don’t sit up.”

“Why not?” Duncan soon realized what she meant when he felt a jolt of pain radiate across his chest. 

“You’ll rip your stitches.”

“Right, I’m sure I will,” he smiled. “Just like I’m sure I wasn’t in a coma for however long you said.”

“I can assure you this is no laughing matter. Do you want proof? I brought a copy of today’s newspaper if you didn’t believe me.”

“Sure,” he scoffed at her. “I’ll look at your newspaper.”

She produced a copy and handed it over. He examined the front page. It was some political bullshit he could never hope to understand. Still, this was a lot of effort to go through for a prank. He started to panic a bit. There’s no way this was real. Shit like this only happened in the movies.

“Do you believe me now? It might take a little time to set in.”

“I don’t understand,” he tried to control his breathing. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“I don’t…I don’t know, I…”

She put a hand up to stop him. 

“It’s alright, police will be here to speak with you later. That’s not my job. You were stabbed in the chest. The right side, thankfully, so not your heart. You can look and see the stitches if you want. Usually, minor stabbings won’t result in a coma, but you were cut deep near your Subclavian Artery and lost a lot of blood very quickly. You went into shock, which happens when your cells aren’t getting enough oxygen due to a lack of blood, and we were unsure if you sustained any head trauma. In order to prevent necrosis in your brain, which is basically irreversible brain damage, we put you in a medically induced coma so your wound could heal for a while. Also, we didn’t want to run the risk of you bleeding out if the gash reopened, and the only way to ensure that you didn’t make it worse was to prevent you from moving. Does that make sense?”

He just stared at her. Did it make sense? None of this was making sense. 

“I don’t… who did it?”

“Who did…?”

“You said I was stabbed. Who did it?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, but I don’t have that information for you right now. As I said earlier, the police will interview you when you’re feeling better.”

“But they know who did it?”

“I don’t know.”

Jesus Christ, what did this woman know? And speaking of police…

“Are my parents here?”

Part of him hoped she’d say they weren’t. He was really struggling to stay awake, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with his mom, who would be a hysterical mess, and his father, who would probably blame him for getting stabbed in the first place. Thankfully, Dr. Romaro shook her head. 

“We’ve just called them to say you woke up. They’ll be on their way soon. I’m sure you’re eager to speak with them?”

“No, not really.”

“Oh,” she pursed her lips. “Well, I’m sure you’re tired from the sedatives. Why don’t you rest for a bit until they get here?”

“Alright,” he already started to drift off. 

“I’ll wake you up. It shouldn’t be long.”

He had no idea how much time had passed when Dr. Romaro came back. Unlike his supposed coma, he didn’t have any sort of dream this time. He woke up to somebody knocking on the wall. He groggily opened his eyes to see Dr. Romaro standing in the doorway, his mom looking at him in horror, and his father staring with an unreadable expression. 

“Duncan?” Dr. Romaro whispered. “Your parents are here to see you. I’ll leave you guys alone.”

He really wished she would stay, just so everything would be less awkward, but in his hour of need, she abandoned him.

An atmosphere of crushing silence entered the room the moment Dr. Romaro left. His father refused to look at him, while his mother refused to look away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His mother whispered. He noticed her mascara was smudged across her eyes. 

“Only when I move. Or breath,” he smiled, trying to lighten the mood. Instead, she started sobbing. 

“Oh, jeez, don’t do that…”

“This is my fault!” She wailed. 

“Stop it, Emily,” his father hissed. “You’re making a scene.”

“We should have kept a better eye on him,” she hiccuped. 

“You should have expected this to happen eventually,” his father declared, crossing his arms. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Duncan couldn’t resist getting involved. 

“Oh, don’t give me that. Your mother and I tried to raise you right, and I’m done taking responsibility for your mistakes.”

“Ryan,” his mom scolded.

“What?” His father turned to her, ignoring Duncan. “We had cameras in his room, we didn’t give him internet, he had an 8’oclock curfew… what else could we have done? He’s not a reflection of us, that’s just how he is.”

“We should have tried harder,” his mother insisted. “We should’ve taken away that music.”

She was referring to an old My Chemical Romance CD that Duncan was stupid enough to leave out in the open. 

“Or put another lock on his door,” she continued. 

Duncan mostly zoned out for this conversation. He had heard it all before.

“He’s sixteen years old, he can take responsibility for his own decisions,” his father turned back to him. “You can’t blame anybody but yourself for this situation.”

“I’m not blaming anybody,” Duncan insisted. “How am I blaming anybody? Also, is this supposed to be my fault?”

“When you decided to be a criminal, you should have expected something like this to happen.”

“This is insane,” Duncan could hear his heart rate monitor picking up speed. “I don’t even remember what happened.”

“Let this be a warning. Maybe you’ll finally get your act together.”

“I can’t believe you’re a police officer. Aren’t you supposed to want to help people?” Duncan rolled his eyes. It always pissed off his father when he insulted his profession. 

“I help people who are on the right side of the law,” his father growled at him. 

“Oh, so that’s why we haven’t seen Logan in five years? And Charlie, I’m sure you told him I was here?”

“Don’t you dare…” his father took a few strides towards him, getting right up in his face. “You little-”

“Ryan, calm down,” his mother begged, grabbing on to his arm. “Please, let him rest, we can have this conversation later.”

“Um, excuse me? Is everything alright in here?” The three of them turned around to see a nurse standing in the doorway. 

“Yes, of course,” his father quickly straightened up and stepped away from Duncan’s bed. “Why?”

“Your heart monitor…” the nurse nodded towards the machine, which was rapidly beeping. Since everyone was caught up in their argument, nobody had noticed. 

“Everything’s fine here,” Duncan’s father smiled. 

“Well, alright then,” the nurse nodded and left. His father took a deep breath. 

“Let’s talk about this later,” his mom repeated. 

“Fine, fine. I don’t care,” his father decided. “I’m leaving. I’ll be in the car when you’re ready.” He composed himself and calmly left the room. Duncan and his mom watched him go, and when he was out of sight, his mother spoke. 

“Sorry about that…you know he’s stressed with the Marlboro Case and all that. They still haven’t caught him.” 

“It’s fine, Ma,” Duncan closed his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. 

“Hmm,” she ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never liked that mohawk.”

“I know. Maybe I’ll grow it out,” he offered, trying to make her feel better. 

“Did the police stop by yet?”

“No.”

“Hmm...well, I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“Do you know what happened?” He opened his eyes, looking up at her.

“I think it would be better if they explained it to you.” She stepped away, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. “I’ll leave so they can talk to you. I don’t want to keep your father waiting.”

“God forbid.”

“Stop it,” she gave him a stern look. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

“Alright… wait. Um.”

“What is it?”

_Did you ever come and visit me, like you promised?_

“Nothing. It can wait.”

“You’re sure?”

_No… I’m probably making that up. I don’t know if she ever promised anything, and she’s already upset…_

“I’m sure, Ma. Really.”

“I love you,” she said from halfway across the room.

“Love you too.”

And he was alone again. 

He shut his eyes. Where was he, anyways? Close to home? He tried to remember anything from the past few months. He was in juvie- he knew that for sure. Everything was a blur. He tried to pick out faces, names, but it was like the past few months were a tangled mess in his mind. 

“Hi, don’t mind me, I’m just going to change some of these IVs,” a soft voice announced its presence. He looked up to see another nurse in the doorway. 

“Oh. Hi.”

“How are you feeling? Unless you’re already tired of people asking you that?” She had a warm smile. 

“Honestly? Like shit.”

“That’s to be expected,” she nodded. “I love the mohawk, by the way.”

“Oh. Thank you,” he smiled. “Where am I?”

“A hospital,” she looked suddenly worried.

“Don’t worry, I already knew that,” he reassured her. 

“Thank God, that would have been a problem.”

“Like… where in the world am I? Still in Nova Scotia, right?”

“Halifax.”

“It was that serious, huh?”

“Where do you live?”

“South of here. I live about an hour or so from Bridgewater, but I’ve been somewhere else the past few months.”

“Oh that’s so funny, my sister actually lives in Bridgewater.”

“Really?”

“Are you almost done?” A man cleared his throat from the doorway. He wore a fancy suit, and there was a woman standing next to him in a pantsuit. Cops, obviously, but trying to play it down.

“Who are you?” The nurse asked. 

“We have to interview him. Are you done?” He had a gruff voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to let anybody in here-”

“We’re police. They seriously didn’t tell you we were coming?”

Another nurse walked behind the officers. 

“You can let them in!” She called out. 

“See? It’s fine,” the male cop insisted. 

“Oh,” Duncan’s nurse realized. “I’m so sorry about that. Of course, come in.”

The officers entered the room, clearly annoyed. 

“I said I didn’t want anyone speaking to him beforehand,” the man glared at the nurse. 

“Yes, of course, I was just changing these fluids.”

“Well, hurry up so we can start. Somebody should’ve called us the moment he woke up,” he sat down, propping his legs up on Duncan’s bed, which clearly aggravated the nurse, but she bit her tongue. The other officer remained standing in the center of the room before she decided on a chair in the corner. 

“Right, all done. I’ll be out of the way now,” the nurse nodded at the officers. “Goodbye, Duncan.”

“Bye,” he called out. The man stood up and shut the door behind her. He spun around to face Duncan. 

“Now, I’m Officer MacNeil, and this is my colleague, Officer Walsh,” he gestured to the woman sitting behind him. He was tall, imposing, balding, definitely older than his coworker.

“Hi.”

Duncan could already tell that he hated both of these people. 

“Do you know why we’re here?” Officer Walsh spoke for the first time, looking at him as if he were an object in a museum. Some sort of curiosity to stare at. He stared right back. She was young, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, conventionally attractive, but stern. 

“No.”

“Wonderful,” Officer MacNeil clapped his hands in that way people purposely practiced to make the loudest sound possible. Duncan flinched at the noise. “Listen up, kid… um…”

“Duncan?” Officer Walsh next offered. 

“Yes, right. Interesting name.”

“It’s Scottish,” Duncan explained, eager to get this interview over with. “What did you want to ask me?”

“We need you to tell us everything you remember up to and including the incident.”

“Nothing,” Duncan stated. It was true. He had no idea what happened. 

Officer MacNeil did not like that answer. He bit his lips and stared at Duncan, and for a moment Duncan thought he’d punch a wall or something. MacNeil took a deep breath, stood up, and turned to Officer Walsh. 

“You ask him.”

“Duncan,” Walsh leaned forward in her chair. “Listen, it’s really important that you remember some details.”

“Ok.” He literally didn’t know what she wanted him to say. He didn’t remember. What was he supposed to do about it?

“Any information you can give us will really help us out,” she said as if that were supposed to encourage him. “So, with that in mind, what do you remember?”

“About what?”

She took a deep breath and leaned over to Officer MacNeil. 

“They said he would be difficult,” she whispered, but clearly loud enough for Duncan to hear. 

“Who, me?” Duncan protested at the fact they were talking about him right in front of him. “I’m trying, I just don’t know what you want me to say. What am I supposed to remember? About the stabbing? The past few months are a blur, maybe if you helped me out a bit?” At this point, he just wanted them out of his room as fast as possible. 

“Duncan, what do you know about the Marlboro Case?” MacNeil took over. “Do you at least remember that much? It’s been a while.”

“The serial killer, right?”

MacNeil sat back down in his chair, leaning back and folding his arms. 

“Right. Well, I’m not sure how much you know about the specifics, so I’ll remind you. He’s been active since August of 2006, bringing us to about 8 months. He’s killed nine people throughout Nova Scotia, with no pattern in regards to age, race, or gender. The only method we have of connecting these murders is that he always follows the same pattern- attacks at night and always leaves behind cigarette burns on his victims. That’s why the press calls him the Marlboro Murderer, as you’ve probably figured. Survivors of his attacks- and there are only a handful- have given varying descriptions. We don’t have a definite height, age, or ethnicity, he never speaks, he uses a variety of different weapons, he completely covers himself in all black clothing, and since he exclusively attacks in the dark, all we know is that he’s a male. That’s it. We have nothing else.”

“As you could probably imagine,” Walsh cut in, “this has been a nightmare for the province. Halifax has been considering a curfew, tourism has tanked, our economic troubles have only worsened as people refuse to leave their houses, and the pressure on law enforcement to solve this case is… indescribable,” she shook her head. “You must understand,” she stood up and took a few steps closer. The bright overhead lights cast a shadow across her face, highlighting the dark bags under her eyes that her makeup struggled to hide. “I trust you’ll use your discretion when sharing this information with others, but we have tried everything. Every police officer in Nova Scotia is working on this case, including your parents, and we’ve made minimal progress. He’s left behind no definite evidence, and since the murders are so geographically scattered, nobody can rest until we find him because nobody wants the next incident in their jurisdiction.”

Duncan really didn’t give a shit about this woman’s suffering. She signed up to be a police officer, wasn’t this her job, to catch criminals? 

_Sorry it’s such an inconvenience to you that people are getting murdered._

“What does this have to do with me?” 

“Well,” MacNeil smiled, which Duncan despised, “like I said, we couldn’t find a connection between his dead victims, but recently, we struck gold. We started looking at some of his failed attacks and noticed that three of the five survivors had some sort of connection to the police, usually a relative. While his other victims were killed using a variety of weapons, these select survivors had identical stab wounds on their right shoulder. Duncan, roll up your left sleeve for me?”

He did as he was told. Duncan really hated how MacNeil dramatized the whole situation and wished he’d get straight to the point, but he rolled up his sleeve anyways to reveal a smattering of faded cigarette burns. 

“Oh.”

“I assume you didn’t put those there yourself?”

“Not these- no,” Duncan didn’t want to give out any more personal information than necessary. “I have no idea how these got there.”

“Right, well, here’s our theory. You were one of those failed victims I was talking about. You come from a family of cops, and you have identical wounds to the other survivors.”

“And...what am I supposed to do about that?”

“Well,” MacNeil narrowed his eyes at him, “there’s more to the story. Did you seriously think I was finished?”

“MacNeil,” Walsh warned. “You see, Duncan, earlier we said that the Marlboro Murderer didn’t kill those victims related to police. He stabbed their right shoulders instead of their left, purposely avoiding their heart. Initially, we were relieved, but as it would turn out… it was some sort of game he was playing to lure us into a sense of false security. He came back for two of them, bringing his total number of victims to eleven. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, he’s gonna come back and kill me too?”

She nodded her head. 

“Well, that’s bullshit. He should be killing the cops hunting him instead, not their innocent children. No offense.”

He received two glares in return. 

“So, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Well, that depends,” MacNeil relaxed and smiled again. “Are you still up for going on Total Drama?”

“What’s that?” Duncan looked back and forth between them in confusion. “Total Drama?”

“Wow, you really don’t remember anything, eh? Look at that Walsh, he has no idea what I just said! Total Drama, the TV show. You really don’t remember?”

“Look, if I remembered, don’t you think I would have told you?” Duncan glared. 

“Woah, woah, calm down. It’s a TV show, kind of like a mix between Big Brother and Survivor, that’s supposed to premiere this summer. You agreed to be on it because they needed a Bad Boy type character and they agreed to pay for your legal bills and get you out of juvie.”

“Sounds great, but what does that have to do with this?”

“Well,” Walsh considered, “if the Marlboro Murderer was to come back for you, which he probably will, it would be much more difficult if you were in the public eye. He’d probably make a mistake, do something careless, you know. It would sure be convenient if we could put you on that TV show with communications with the Nova Scotia police, you could have a nice summer, and just keep an eye open-”

“You want to use me as bait for a serial killer.”

“Yes,” MacNeil snapped his fingers and smiled. 

“No. Absolutely not. That’s your job. I’m not risking my life to help the police.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Walsh tried to convince him. “You’re not helping us, you’re helping his future victims.”

“Stop guilting me,” Duncan closed his eyes. He was too tired to be dealing with this shit. 

“Hey, wake up,” MacNeil barked. 

“Duncan, this is a huge opportunity. This is our only chance to be one step ahead of him. We’ve never been able to predict one of his victims before, nevertheless get them in the public view.”

“Didn’t you say there were other survivors as well? Can’t you just watch those guys and leave me alone?”

“Yes, but they won’t be on TV.”

“And neither will I. You seriously think my parents will agree to this?”

“They already did,” MacNeil smiled. “Your father thought it would be good for you.”

_Of course he did._

“What about my mom?”

“She said it was up to you,” Walsh explained. “Listen, Duncan, think it through. You don’t have to answer now, but I would seriously consider it. You have the opportunity to make a real difference.”

“And you would be compensated, of course,” MacNeil jumped in. “We’d pay you. And we might be able to clean your record. No promises, but we’d put in a good word for you.”

“It won’t be easy,” Walsh conceded. “It might take a while to catch him. It could be dangerous. And of course, you have a long recovery ahead of you from your previous injuries. Think about it.” She stood up and nodded to MacNeil. “We’ll be back in a few days.”

MacNeil followed her towards the door. 

“Duncan, we trust that you’ll make the right decision. We’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

_Finally._

He didn’t give their offer much more thought. He had much more pressing matters to deal with, such as the fact that his pain meds were starting to wear off and every time he moved his right arm he wanted to amputate it. When the doctors told him about the hours of physical therapy he’d have to do each day to strengthen the muscles in his shoulder and regain his fine motor control, nevermind the fact that he was still missing entire months of memories and was probably going to fail out of high school, all of the sudden the police investigation became the furthest thing from his mind. If the Marlboro Murderer wanted to stab him in his hospital bed, then more power to him. 

The next day, Duncan finally had the courage to look at his injuries. The stab wound didn’t look too bad. It was going to leave a nasty scar, but it had been stitched up for almost three weeks. 

_Still hurts like a bitch, though…_

At least it would make for a cool story. He was more surprised at how quickly he forgot to use everything. When he tried to write his name, it looked like a fifth grader’s handwriting. He hadn’t even attempted to draw anything yet. That would be another level of disappointment.

On his left arm, the cigarette burns had mostly healed over. There were only three of them on his forearm, but they weren’t as cool as his other injury. Unlike his scar, the cigarette burns were the type of marks that would need explaining. 

_Nobody’s gonna believe somebody else put these here. That’s gonna be such an awkward conversation… I’ll have to cover them up._

He didn’t think about juvie too much. It was much more convenient to pretend the whole thing never happened than to grapple with the fact that he was missing months of time. The doctors wanted him to speak with a psychiatrist when he was feeling up to it, which he’d put off as long as possible. 

His parents eventually came to visit again. This meeting was much shorter than the first one. His father was disappointed he wouldn’t help with the case, which devolved into a whole argument. 

“You’re being selfish, Duncan,” he insisted. 

“How is that selfish? I didn’t sign up to be a cop.”

“Did you even consider it?” His mother asked. 

“You were the one who was worried about me getting hurt, and now you want me to go out there?”

“That’s different,” she shook her head. “The police will protect you.”

“Oh, I’m sure, just like they protected the other victims.”

That response earned him the silent treatment for several days.

When he wasn’t arguing with his parents or doing something medically related, he was attempting to draw, listening to music (his mom snuck him his MP3 player with heavily censored music), or going for walks around the hospital. Apparently, two and a half weeks was all it took for his legs to go to shit, because they buckled under him the first time he tried to stand up. The nurse he liked from before (he learned her name was Kathy) had to help him. 

“Did I mention I hate this?” He asked as she steadied him by the shoulders. 

“Most people do.”

His walks weren’t that interesting. The hallways all looked the same, and he could only walk in circles for so long. 

It was on his way back from one of these journeys that he found somebody sitting in his room. Nineteen years old with shabby black hair, blue eyes, and a short stature, not unlike Duncan himself.

“Charlie?”

“Jeez, you look like shit,” his older brother eyed him up and down.

“I feel even worse,” Duncan grinned. “Wait, how are you here right now? Did you get out or something?”

“No way,” Charlie snorted. “They’re not letting me out anytime soon. Apparently they don’t go easy on you if they catch you with coke, yeah? Let’s just say I’m here on a day trip. Sit down, I feel bad just looking at you.”

“You’re not doing much better,” Duncan rolled his eyes as he sat on the edge of his bed. 

“Sure, but I’m not comatose-bad. Speaking of which, are you, like, alright? Like, mentally?” Charlie didn’t know how to phrase the question. 

“Well, I’m missing a few months of memories, and I have the handwriting of an elementary-school dropout, but I have a pretty cool scar, so I guess that makes up for it.”

“Oh, wait, your drawings!”

“I’ll figure it out,” Duncan waved him off. 

“That sucks, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you broke out! Hiding in your brother’s hospital room?”

“I wouldn’t stoop that low,” Charlie smiled. “Maybe when you’re feeling better. Anyways, I have a message,” he grew more serious. “I’ll cut to the chase. I know you’re not an idiot, so I won’t sneak around it. You should help the police with this case.”

“What?” Duncan stared at him. “Why? Since when do you care about helping the police?”

“I don’t. Obviously. I’ll probably get beat up when I get back later on for being a snitch, and trust me, being a snitch in actual prison is nothing like juvie. But anyways,” he backpedaled, “I would do it if I were you. Just so they’ll wipe your record, a fresh start, all that bullshit.”

“So this is the real reason you came here? The first time I see you in two years outside of a jail cell, and it’s to lecture me?” Duncan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. . 

“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Charlie fired back. “Don’t you think I would have visited if I could have? I can’t exactly waltz out of there. And thanks to your most recent fuck-up, you haven’t visited me either, alright? So drop it.”

“Fine. Just finish your speech,” he felt sick, and dangerously close to crying. He’d managed to hold it together these past three days, but with every word his brother brought him closer to an emotional break. 

“Don’t be stupid about this. Look, forget about the police, alright? Think about the people this guy might kill in the future. I know you, Duncan. You’re a bleeding heart, even if you won’t admit it. And besides, what do you have to go back to? High school, where you’re months behind? Juvie, where you just got stabbed and everyone knows you’re vulnerable? Back to live with mom and dad, basically under house arrest? Fuck that. And look… I didn’t want to say this, but I’m sure if Logan were here, he’d want you to do it, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Right, because I’m sure you guys are in such close contact,” Duncan tried to hide how surprised he was at the mention of their oldest brother. 

“Maybe we are. Maybe he writes me letters,” Charlie shrugged. 

“Bullshit. Nobody even knows where he’s living.”

“Nah, you’re right,” Charlie smiled. “You were always his favorite. If anything, he’d write to you. But it was still worth a shot, right? I almost had you convinced.”

“I guess…”

“Well,” Charlie stood up, “that’s my spiel for you. I hope I did a good job, because I went all out on that shit. You better do it, by the way. Or I’ll beat you up. And I’ll be watching Total Drama this summer, so help me God if you aren’t on that TV screen. Bye, Duncan,” he started for the door. “Love you and all that shit. Good luck out there. Don’t fuck this up.” And he was gone. 

_Leave it to the cops to send my brother here to bully me… But what now? He made some good points, do I just do it? Anything would be better than moving back home with mom and dad, especially in this condition. Ah, fuck, what to do…_

But somewhere buried in that heart of gold he refused to acknowledge he possessed, Duncan had already made his decision. 

_Fine._

A/N Holy shit I’m so hyped for this story. Let’s fucking goooo!  
And here’s an illustration if anyone wants: https://charred-chocolate.tumblr.com/post/622405207825006592/uh-oh-im-writing-fan-fiction-again-and-even


	2. Casualism

A/N Hi everyone, I hope you’re all enjoying the story so far! I’m including illustrations at the end of some of the chapters because I need to practice, so you can cringe if you want to take a look. Next chapter goes up on Friday. 

Chapter Two

Casualism: The belief that chance governs all things. 

“Alright, grab my hands,” Dr. Romaro instructed. “Yup, just like that, and squeeze as hard as you can, good. Grip strength is almost even, left is slightly stronger,” she noted to Nurse Kathy, who made a note on a clipboard she was holding. 

Duncan was going through his daily regiment of tests. It was his fourth full day in the hospital, and he was already bored out of his mind. He tried to find things to do- he went for longer walks, tried to draw, considered bribing a nurse to sneak him his music- but there wasn’t much to keep him occupied. The music thing especially had been driving him crazy. He had a song stuck in his head that he just couldn’t figure out, and he hoped with his playlists he’d be able to find it. Instead, he had to be content with not knowing. Every day was the same. At this point, he may as well have been in prison. Oh, well. At least here, nobody wanted to stab him. 

_Ooohh… too soon?_

“I’m going to check your pupils,” Dr. Romaro took a small flashlight and sat down to face him. “Follow the light with your eyes,” she moved the light across his field of vision. “Good. Pupils are tracking together,” she announced, “and dilating at the same time. Alright,” she turned off the light. “We’re all done. Send these to radiology?” She asked Kathy. 

“Of course. You know I’ll take any chance to see Dr. Cabot,” she winked. 

“Who?” Duncan wanted to know. 

“Radiologist. He’s gorgeous,” she explained. 

“Oh my God, shut up,” Dr. Romaro blushed, forgetting Duncan was there. 

_This has to be unprofessional, right? I’ve never seen her so relaxed._

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal your boyfriend.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s married.”

“What! Since when?” 

Thus began a heated debate about Dr. Cabot.

_Oh my God, who cares?_

“Well, I’m sending Duncan down there in an hour.”

_Actually, I care._

Hearing his name brought him back to the conversation. 

“What am I doing?”

“Bye,” Kathy smiled and left. 

“Sorry,” Dr. Romaro straightened up. “You have to ignore her. I’m sending you to radiology for an MRI. They need to take a scan of your brain to look for damage. Since you’ve sustained some sort of head trauma, we need to see the full extent.”

“Oh.”

“Someone will be here to take you down in an hour.” She collected her bag and left. 

_So that fucking sucks. Brain damage? The cool scar was fine. That’s sexy. Brain damage isn’t sexy. Damnit, I shouldn’t have said that I lost all those memories. I should’ve denied everything, or made shit up. That’s how I always got by. They caught me in a moment of weakness, and now some hot doctor is going to give me the disappointment of a lifetime._

Duncan spent the next hour wallowing in sadness. Despite all of the time he had by himself, he hadn’t given much thought to his current situation, but he had no reason to believe anything was seriously wrong with him until that moment. He thought he would stay in the hospital until his arm healed, then he’d be sent back to juvie to finish out his sentence. Sure, he would have forgotten who everyone was, and he’d be known as the weird kid who suffered a flesh wound, but he’d manage. After all, he had only been gone for three weeks. 

_But now everything’s getting complicated… it’s not just my arm, it’s the cigarette burns, my brain, my whole fucking body. Damnit!_

He wished he had his lighter with him. He needed something to do, anything to keep his hands occupied. The styrofoam cup of water sitting on his bedside table looked appealing. He took a few sips. 

_Who knows what’ll be next to go? I mean… does my dick still work? I’m sure it must, but I haven’t had the opportunity to test it out. I haven’t been in the mood for that with all that’s been going on. Maybe if Dr. Cabot’s as hot as they say, he’ll give me some inspiration. Or he’ll tell me that my brain is permanently fucked, and I’ll be the one to tell my parents. I’m sure they’ll love that conversation. Just when they thought I couldn’t get any worse. Fuck!_

He finished the water and dug his nails into the cup until the entire thing crumbled into pieces, sending shreds of styrofoam drifting onto his lap like snowflakes. Anything to get rid of that tension, even if it was only for a few seconds. 

“Duncan? I’m here to take you for your MRI,” Kathy poked her head in the doorway. “Hey, what did that cup do to you?”

“Huh?” He looked up at her, shaken from his thoughts. “Oh. Nothing, I guess.”

“Come with me, it’s downstairs.”

She led him through the hallway towards the elevator. He glanced at the other patients he passed, just so he could feel like he wasn’t the only person suffering. Most of them were in their rooms, or just walking along minding their own business. There was an older man on crutches with a woman, and a young girl wearing a hospital gown clutching onto a stuffed bunny as she walked by. Duncan smiled at her, but she just stared back with wide eyes. Briefly, he wondered where her parents were, but he had to keep walking. He stepped into the elevator and Kathy pressed the button. Duncan caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror fastened to the wall. He’s definitely seen better days. 

_Well, I look like shit. My roots totally destroyed my mohawk. How can I have bags under my eyes after a coma? And I look so pale...I guess there’s no chance of impressing Dr. Cabot._

“Here we are,” Kathy announced like Duncan couldn’t realize that the elevator stopped. “It’s just down the hall.”

He trailed behind her as she pushed open a door labelled “Imaging.” The room inside had a large machine with a smaller room behind a glass wall, where a man in a white lab coat sat typing on a computer. 

“Dr. Cabot?” Kathy called out. He looked up from his computer and smiled. 

_Oh God he’s gorgeous. Shit._

“Yes, one moment,” Dr. Cabot finished typing. 

“Well?” She whispered. 

“He’s some good looking,” Duncan conceded. 

“Just wait until he opens his mouth. Hi, Dr. Cabot!”

The man in question had emerged from the side room and shut the door behind him. 

“Hello, you are Duncan, yes?” Dr. Cabot spoke with an alluring French accent. 

_Oh dear God he’s from Quebec._

“Yes,” Duncan smiled, well-aware that he looked like shit compared to the doctor-model standing in front of him. 

“Good, I’ll take it from here,” he nodded. 

“Alright,” Kathy smiled at him.

“Alright,” Dr. Cabot repeated. 

She still didn’t leave. 

_God damnit, Kathy, you’re losing him… just go._

“Well, see you,” she bid farewell after a few moments of awkward shuffling. She turned and left for the elevator. 

“Ok, Duncan, have you had an MRI before?” 

“Nope.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve seen it on TV, perhaps? They’re very common.”

_Do I lie? I was never allowed to watch that kind of stuff._

“But in any case,” Dr. Cabot continued, “it stands for ‘magnetic resonance imaging.’ You lay down in this machine,” he gestured to the machine in the middle of the room, “and it takes a picture of your brain so we can see what’s going on. Now, there’s a few very important things to know, so listen closely…”

Dr. Cabot walked back towards the MRI machine as he explained what Duncan needed to do. 

“It’s absolutely crucial that-”

_Don’t look at his ass. Do not look at his ass. Do. Not. And… you’re looking. What are you doing? Stop looking-_

“And that’s all you need to know,” Dr. Cabot finished his explanation. “Do you have any questions?” 

_Shit. Shit shit shit._

“Nope, I think I got everything,” Duncan smiled. 

“Wonderful. Lie down here,” Dr. Cabot patted the seat of the machine. Duncan lied down on top of a board. “And I’ll just lock your head in.” Dr. Cabot leaned over and pulled a few straps over Duncan’s head so he couldn’t move it. Duncan could see the blue of his eyes, and he could swear he felt a few strands of Dr. Cabot’s blond hair graze his forehead. He wanted to die. 

“I’ll go behind the glass and tell you when we’re about to start. You have no metal in your body, right? The machine acts as a giant magnet. No pacemakers or anything like that?”

“No.”

“Perfect. I’m putting you in the machine now. Remember, don’t move.”

The board Duncan was lying on top of slid into the machine, and in a moment, he was in a dimly lit tube, completely surrounded on all sides except his feet. 

_Hope I don’t have to do anything important._

“Duncan? Can you hear me?” Dr. Cabot’s voice echoed throughout the machine. 

“Yes?”

“Alright, I’m starting the scan now, it should take about half an hour since we’re just looking at your brain. If you start to panic or need anything, just let me know. Otherwise, just lay still.”

“Alright.” The machine started to beep and hum. 

_I miss my piercings, but I guess it’s good I don’t have them now. They’d be ripped right out of my face during the MRI. That’d be totally sick. What happens if you get shot? Does the bullet tear through your whole body? That would be an interesting way to kill youself- to get an MRI and straight up lie about having metal in your body. Could the doctor get sued for that?_

_This must be what it’s like to be buried alive. I kind of like it. It’s quiet. Besides the machine._

“Duncan, I’m going to play some music. Do you want to listen?”

_Nevermind. Just say no. Enjoy the silence._

“Sure.”

_God damnit. Why did you need to impress him? He’s a doctor, he doesn’t care about some teenager._

Faded French music started to play on the speaker where Dr. Cabot’s voice came from. 

_And I can’t even understand it. Well, at least I can drown it out… Damn, what was that song stuck in my head? Love me something… Fuck, I’ll never remember it. That’s so annoying._

_I wonder if anyone else knows I’m here. I haven’t spoken to my friends from school in months, who knows when I’ll see them again? Speaking of which, I don’t think it’s physically possible to catch up in school. Oh, well. And in juvie, does anyone know what happened? Did everyone see it go down? That’s so embarrassing. I hope I wasn’t a total bitch about it. Maybe it’s for the better I don’t remember._

_And besides- wait._

“Dr. Cabot!”

“Yes? Is something wrong?” Dr. Cabot asked in a panicked tone. 

“That song.”

He could hear the melody creeping through the speakers. It was that goddamn song that had been stuck in his head the past few days. 

“What about it?”

“What’s it called?”

“One second… Céline Dion’s “Loved Me Back To Life.” I guess I put some of her English albums here by accident… why?”

_I’ve never heard of it before… so weird._

“Nothing. I just thought I knew it from somewhere.”

“Ah. Well, I’m almost done here, so…”

“Ok.”

_I guess I’ll look for it later, maybe I had it in a playlist or something. But I doubt it. I don’t think I’ve ever listened to Céline Dion._

“Alright, we’re all done. I’ll stop the machine and let you out, just stay there while I interpret the results.”

“Sure.”

The machine quieted down as the board carrying Duncan slid outside of it. He shielded his eyes from the glaring light of the observation room compared to the dim glow inside the MRI machine. He unstrapped his head and sat up, rolling his shoulders (going easy on his right) and stretching his arms. Looking around the room didn’t give him much excitement. The walls were white, and the fluorescent light bulbs were nothing to brag about. 

“Alright, come with me,” Dr. Cabot opened his side door for Duncan and ushered him into the smaller room. “I’ll have to explain this again to your parents, I’m sure, but I’ll tell you first.”

Dr. Cabot was seated at a desk with a line of computers, each with a different scan of a human skull. 

“Here,” he stood up with pictures of the scans, hanging them on the wall. “These are images of your brain taken from different angles.”

“Oh, cool.”

_I have no idea what I’m looking at._

“Now, here’s the interesting part. Originally, your doctors didn’t know if you hit your head or not. The belief was that your lack of memories indicated some sort of brain injuries, but your normal cognitive functions said otherwise. You know who you are, you recognize your parents, you can read without issue, speech isn’t slurred, things like that. Even though you’re unable to write or draw- you like to draw, yes?”

“Um, yes,” Duncan answered, somewhat embarrassed. 

“We can attribute your loss of function to damage to your shoulder running down to your hand, which will hopefully improve with physical therapy.”

“So my brain is fine?”

“Well. No.”

“Oh.”

“On the scan here, I’m mainly looking for trauma, scarring, anything that might indicate a physical injury to your brain. This is your temporal lobe,” Dr. Cabot pointed to a picture. “It’s the part of your brain that hosts the Hippocampus, responsible for long-term memory. I know it’s difficult to see here, but you can see some minor swelling. Most likely, you were hit on the side of the head. Not hard enough to crack your skull, thankfully. That’s why they put you in a coma- in case you were hit in the head, the swelling would go down. This damage is part of what’s causing your memory loss.”

_I hope he doesn’t expect me to keep up with any of this._

“Wait, only part of what’s causing it?”

“The problem is that nobody saw what actually happened. Personally, I don’t think this is purely a physical injury, but a combination of factors causing your memory loss. I’m not a psychiatrist, so I’m not diagnosing you with anything, but I would say this is also some sort of Dissociative Amnesia at play. It’s the term we use for amnesia with no physical cause. It usually happens after a severely traumatic incident. Of course, you do have a physical cause, but my theory is that the physical injury has blocked out the past few months, while your brain is psychologically trying to protect you from the actual incident. You understand what I am saying?”

_No._

“Yes, I guess so. But will I get those memories back?”

“It’s difficult to say with these types of things. It’s not like in the movies, where you hit your head and everything comes flooding back. Most likely, the memories caused by your injuries will return in pieces over the next few months. But the attack itself? I am not so sure. I know you’re speaking with Dr. Walterson this afternoon, so she might be able to explain better than I can.”

“Who?”

“The psychiatrist?”

_Jesus Christ, does anybody tell me anything around here?_

“I am sensing you didn’t know you were seeing her? I guess they don’t keep you updated.”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Well, Dr. Romaro probably thought you’d try and talk your way out of it. But don’t worry, Dr. Walterson is very nice. And then we’ll all speak with your parents.”

_Oh God no._

“This seems to worry you?”

“Nah, it’s just my parents can be a little extreme sometimes. They can overreact, I guess.”

Dr. Cabot seemed to think that was funny. 

“Duncan, I have been doing this for many years. Don’t worry, I can handle your parents,” Dr. Cabot smiled. The man must be some sort of magician, because Duncan immediately felt reassured. 

“Alright,” Duncan shrugged. 

“Do you have any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, you’re free to go. If you think of anything, you can ask when your parents are there.”

Duncan wanted to believe in Dr. Cabot and his angel face, but in the recesses of his mind, he knew the man was no match for his father’s rage or his mother’s panic. Dr. Walterson better have nerves of steel, or she wouldn’t survive either. 

He wandered back to his room, taking his time. He was in no particular rush to speak with a psychiatrist. It just sounded messy. Besides, he wasn’t really paying attention when Kathy showed him down to radiology, so he didn’t know where he was going. 

“Are you lost?” He looked around for the source of the voice. It was the little girl from before clutching her stuffed bunny. 

“Oh. Hi. Yes, actually.”

“How? It’s only a few hallways.”

He didn’t appreciate her sass, but he respected the hustle. 

“Well, it’s been a rough couple of days.”

“I know. I passed your room sometimes. They said you were sleeping for a while, but I guess you woke up.”

_How long has she been here?_

“Yep, here I am.”

“So what happened?” She asked, looking up at him. “That’s a long time to sleep.”

“I don’t remember.”

“What?” She pouted. “That’s not a good story.”

“I know. They say I was stabbed.”

_Is that alright to tell a seven year old?_

“No way!” She couldn’t believe it. “Did it hurt?”

“I don’t remember, remember?”

“Ohh, right!” She smiled. “I wish I had a cool story.”

“It’s not that cool,” he reassured her, stepping to the side of the hallway to let a nurse pass with a cart. 

“I’m just here because of my heart,” she explained. “It doesn’t beat the right way.”

“That’ll do it,” Duncan nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“But I can take you to your room!” She smiled and started to march down the hallway. 

“Oh, you know where it is?” He caught up with her. 

“Yep, I’ve walked by it a whole bunch!”

“Cool, thanks.”

_Great, now a literal child knows more than I do._

“Ok, here it is!” She proudly announced. “See? I told you I could do it!”

“Good job. Thanks. I’m Duncan, by the way.”

“I know! I’d hear the doctors talk about you sometimes. It gets really boring here.”

“I know. I’m climbing the walls.”

“My name is Chloe,” she smiled. “But I have to go now! I’m hiding from the nurses. They can be really mean sometimes,” she wrinkles her nose. “But you can’t tell anyone!”

“I won’t. Snitches get stitches.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Oh, alright. Bye, Duncan!” She waved and skipped away. 

He looked at the grim contents of his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath. 

_Fuck, I really don’t want to talk to this woman. I just don’t see the purpose._

He grabbed his sketchbook from his bedside table. It was a new one. His actual drawings were hidden at home, and he didn’t want to tell his parents where they were and run the risk of having them flip through everything. 

_I’ll spare myself the lecture, thanks._

“Hi, Duncan?”

He looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. She wasn’t wearing a labcoat like every other doctor, but regular clothes. In this case, a red blouse and black skirt. She had a dark complexion and tight, curly black hair. 

“Yes?”

“I’m Dr. Walterson,” she smiled. “I’m a psychiatrist here at the hospital, how are you?”

“Alright.”

“I’m just here to ask you a few questions, check in with you. I know the past few days have been hectic,” she shut the door to his room and took a seat across from his bed. In her hands, she had a clipboard and pen. “How does that sound?”

_There’s no way out of this one._

“Fine.”

“I’ve been warned you aren’t the type to talk about your feelings, but don’t think of it like that. You can talk about anything you want, and it won’t leave this room. I legally can’t repeat anything you say to anyone, including your parents, unless you plan on hurting yourself or hurting someone else, alright? If you’ve done drugs, if you’ve hurt yourself in the past, anything like that, and this is your opportunity to say it without repercussions. So, I recommend you tell the truth for your own sake. With that in mind, let’s start with a few easy questions. What’s your last name?”

“Alasdair,” the moment he spoke she started to take notes. He tried to see what she was writing, but she was too far away, and he didn’t want to be too obvious. 

“Duncan Alasdair….Scottish?”

“Yep.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And what grade are you in?”

“Sophomore in high school, but I haven’t been to school in a while.”

“Since when? The incident?”

“Since November.”

She looked up at that. 

“Why haven’t you been going to school?”

_Oh, she’s going to think so much less of me. I can already see it, the look of disappointment._

“I was in juvie.”

“And why were you in juvie?” She kept writing. He was shocked. It was like she was completely unfazed. He thought for sure he’d be able to detect some hint of disgust, but it was like she truly didn’t care. 

“I burned down an abandoned building. So officially, it was arson.”

“And why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to.”

“Alright, we’ll come back to that,” she nodded. “But tell me about the last few months?”

“I don’t remember them. At all. It’s kind of a problem.”

“That would be a problem,” she agreed.

“Dr. Cabot says I suffered a hit to my temporal lobe, and then he said to tell you he thinks my brain is trying to protect me from a traumatic incident.”

“It’s possible,” she acknowledged. “The brain is complicated. I know that’s not a clear answer,” she smiled. “Don’t worry. We have a lot of time. And a lot of ground to cover. So you don’t remember the past few months? Nothing at all?” She scribbled. 

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “I just woke up here. I know I was in juvie. Like, in my mind I understand that I was there, but when I try to picture what it might have looked like, or the people I might have spoken to, there’s nothing.”

“And how is that for you?”

“I mean, it’s kind of whatever.”

“Explain that for me?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… whatever. There’s nothing I can really do about it. And Dr. Cabot said I’ll probably get those memories back eventually.”

“And school, do you miss it?”

“No,” he scoffed. 

“I take it you’re not a fan?” She tilted her head. 

“Nah. I mean, I was never really a ‘school’ guy.”

“Did you struggle with your grades?”

“Well, it wasn’t that. You see, I understood the material, right? I just never showed up. I don’t know, I just wanted to do other things.”

“So you skipped a lot,” she nodded her head. “And what did you do instead?”

_I mean… do I tell her? Was she lying about not telling my parents?_

“You know. Graffiti. We’d smoke. Stuff like that.”

“And when would you say you started skipping school?”

_Incredible, still no trace of judgement…_

“Probably middle school.”

“Alright, and remind me where you’re from?”

“Small town an hour from Bridgewater.”

“Gotcha,” she nodded. “So, you weren’t bad at school, you just didn’t want to be there. Would you say you just didn’t care about school?”

“Yeah, that’s a good way of putting it.”

“And you mentioned smoking… when did you start doing that?”

“Cigarettes? Probably middle school, but most of the kids my age switched over to weed pretty quick. Don’t want lung cancer, you know?”

“Do a lot of kids in your town smoke weed? Sorry, I know I sound like an old woman asking that,” she winced.

“You’re fine,” he smiled. “Yeah. Maybe… 40%. And everyone drinks. I guess it’s typical small town stuff. There’s nothing else to do.”

“And do your parents know about that?”

“Ah… that’s a whole other thing. Both of my parents are cops.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I hate it. They’re both crazy.”

“How so?”

“Well, they’re both really overprotective. I think they take it too far. They don’t.”

“What kind of things do they do?”

“I don’t know, I’ve had an 8 o’clock curfew since middle school so I can never hang out with my friends. They have these security cameras set up throughout the house so they can make sure nobody is doing anything they don’t approve of, even in my bedroom. They censor all of my music, I can’t watch TV, stuff like that.”

“Why do you think they do that?”

“So I don’t become a criminal. I guess it didn’t work. My dad also has a really short temper and I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Explain that.”

“So, his whole thing is that he hates criminals, but he always calls me a criminal. It’s not hard to connect the dots, you know? I just don’t think he likes me as a person. He thinks I’m lazy.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I mean, it sucks, but that’s kind of how it is.”

“Interesting… and do you have any siblings?”

“Two older brothers, but neither of them live at home.”

“Are they much older than you?”

“No, one’s in jail, and the other went missing.”

Dr. Walterson paused at that. 

“Alright, backup a moment, what happened?”

“I know, that tends to get people. So, I’m the youngest. Charlie is three years older than me, and he got arrested for cocaine possession when I was fifteen, so he’s been in jail since then.”

“And what happened to the other one?”

“Oh. We don’t know. He just… left.”

_Do not cry. You fucking bastard, don’t do it. No. Not in front of this woman, no no no._

“What do you mean?”

“So Logan is three years older than Charlie, and six years older than me. And one day, when I was ten years old, he just packed up and left. And we don’t know where he went. That’s it.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine.”

“What effect did that have on you?”

“It sucked, to be honest. Like, I don’t know.”

“Why do you think he left?”

“My dad won’t talk about him. Won’t even say his name. So, maybe they had some sort of fight, I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s brutal. His way or the highway, and my mom just goes along with it.”

“Let me shift gears for a moment. What do you do for fun? Is there anything you enjoy?”

“I like to draw.”

“Alright, that’s good,” she smiled.

“My dad thinks it’s a waste of time. He used to look at all of the stuff I drew, so I had to start hiding my notebooks in the floorboards.”

“Why did you do that?”

“He would’ve lectured me if he found something he didn’t like. You see, there’s kind of a system set up in place. My dad doesn’t think too much of me, and he has this image of me in his head that I’ve turned to a life of crime and ‘disobedience.’ That’s his word, ‘disobedience.’ So, he’s more of a yeller, definitely. He’d get mad if I drew anything he disapproved of, or if he found weed or something, because he’d see it as ‘disobedient’ or an attack against him. But my mom, she’d be genuinely worried, so she’d do something like take away all of my music so I wouldn’t be corrupted.”

“Are your parents particularly religious?”

“No.”

“There seems to be a very strong emphasis on morality in your house. I mean, look. Most parents don’t want their kids to smoke or drink.”

“Right,” he nodded sheepishly. 

“But your parents take it a step further. It appears to me that your parents strictly monitor your creative expression. Tell me, what sort of drawing would upset your parents?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Like, anything inappropriate. Blood. Violence. Stuff like that.”

“Do you think your drawings are violent?”

“Not really. I mean, I’m sixteen, right? From the way my mom freaks out about it you’d think I was drawing gore. I had someone smoking once, and she went right crazy about it. Like, freaking out.”

“Interesting… They treat you like you’re much younger than you actually are.”

“Yes.”

“Do they limit your exposure to the outside world?”

“I’m not allowed to use the internet, but I only know, like, two people in my school who have their own computers. They restrict the channels on the TV, which is annoying.”

“I know you said you had a curfew?”

“Oh, the curfew,” he smiled. “Of course. Eight o’clock, ever since sixth grade. If I break it, my dad goes ballistic.”

“Have you ever broken it?”

“I used to sneak out a lot, but I mostly just stay in my room all night.”

“And what do you do all night?”

“Three things: draw, play guitar, listen to music. Playing guitar is the most difficult because it’s the loudest, drawing is the easiest because I can mask it as studying. I used to hang out with my brother, but he was never home those last few years anyways, and now that’s all gone to shit.”

“So you spend a lot of time alone. Why did you stop sneaking out?”

“The cameras.”

“Right, I wanted to come back to that. Tell me how that started?”

“Yeah. Personally, I think this is the craziest shit they’ve pulled,” he smiled, “but you can be the judge. So eighth grade, I’m just sitting in my room when I swear to God, I see this blinking red light on top of my shelf. I went to investigate, and it turns out they hid cameras throughout the house. Even in my room. And I had no idea. I thought it was illegal, like child pornography or some shit, but I guess not. And they didn’t put them in the bathrooms, so I just get changed in there.”

“What did you do?” He couldn’t believe how fast she was writing. 

“I asked my dad about it, and he didn’t deny it or anything, he just said he put them there to watch me.”

“How did you respond to that?”

“What was I gonna do? I was pissed, obviously, but he wasn’t going to budge.”

“Let me change gears here for a moment, how are your relationships with your peers?”

He was surprised she wasn’t spending more time on the camera thing. That usually freaked people out. 

“Well, I haven’t seen any of my friends in a while, but before that, I’d say good. I think I had a good thing going, you know? Don’t get me wrong. My dad hated all of my friends. Because they smoked. But I liked them.”

“And did you have a girlfriend? Um, or boyfriend?”

_Just be cool._

“Nice catch there, doctor. You’re not a psychiatrist for nothing. I like both. But I was single when I was arrested.”

“Thank you,” she silently congratulated herself on her ability to pick up on these types of nuances. “And do your parents know that you’re bisexual?”

“I think my dad would lose his shit.”

“I should have seen that coming… Alright, one more thing, and as a reminder I can’t tell your parents anything unless you’re planning to commit suicide, ok? Did you ever hurt yourself on purpose? This could be cutting, burning, anything like that?”

_No way am I telling this woman that._

“Nope.”

“Because the doctors did a full examination of your body, and both of your upper thighs were covered in scars.”

_You fucking idiot, why didn’t you think of that?_

“Ah. Weird,” he blushed. 

“Duncan,” she put down her pen and stared at him. “I’ve been a doctor for over twenty years. I promise you, I’ve heard it all. Whatever you tell me won’t surprise me,” she smiled. “We already know it’s true, you might as well say it.”

“I used to. A while ago. I don’t any more.” 

“Cut yourself?”

“Mm-hmm. Years ago, in middle school. It was stupid,” he prayed she’d change the subject. 

“Did your parents ever find out?”

“I don’t think so. I kept it on my upper thighs, right? So it was easier to hide. But it got too hard.”

“How so?”

“It was incredibly fucking itchy, and it bled through sometimes, and the biggest issue is that, well, you know. It’s addictive. And I was running out of room. And summer was a nightmare because I was always paranoid going swimming.”

“And why did you think you did it?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. I liked it for some reason.”

“When did you start setting fires?”

“Later.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. It just makes me feel good. I know that’s not a good answer, it’s hard to explain.”

“How’s your appetite? At least, before this all started?”

“It was fine. Average.”

“And your sleeping habits? How much sleep do you get per night?”

“I go to bed pretty late… maybe 3 in the morning?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t sleep a lot.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, I guess I don’t have a lot of answers.”

“That’s alright…” she finished up her notes and glanced at them. “I have a few thoughts.”

“Ok.”

“From what I’ve gathered, you have a fairly chaotic home life, right? One brother’s in jail, the other’s nowhere to be found, and your parents seem to disapprove of everything you do. In a way, they treat you like a prisoner in your own home. It’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. Since they’ve always expected you to be a criminal and treated you accordingly, watching your every move and giving you a strict curfew, you ended up acting out and actually getting arrested. However, what’s most striking to me is how you’ve reacted to these circumstances. We all have different coping mechanisms. Some people go running, or talk with their friends. In your case, you used to cut yourself, and you smoke, and drink. And of course, you start fires. It acts as a sort of emotional release for you, right?”

“I mean, it calms me down.”

“Exactly. It’s what we call pyromania. Setting fires to relieve emotional tension. You need to find a healthier way to cope. But something else stood out to me. Does anybody in your family suffer from depression?”

“Not that I know of?”

“Well, I think you’ve been dealing with depression for a long time. Let’s go back to the beginning, alright? The self-harm is the biggest indicator, but even before that, you were skipping class in middle school because you didn’t care about your grades.”

“But I was never sad or anything.”

“Right, there’s a lot of misconceptions about depression. Instead of viewing it as being sad, think about it as being really apathetic. Like you don’t care about anything. Even yourself. Go back for a minute, why did you cut yourself?”

“I just liked doing it.”

“Most people couldn’t fathom hurting themselves on purpose, but if you’re depressed, you don’t think about it like that. You think you deserve it, or feeling physical pain is better than feeling nothing. And earlier, when you were talking about your parents and how you discovered the cameras in your room, you said you were upset but you accepted it. A lot of teenagers would scream at their parents, but you said you accepted it because you felt there was nothing you could do. And when you mentioned several instances, like when your brother was arrested, or your curfew, you seemed detached rather than upset. In a few instances, you even smiled. It’s humor as a defense. I’m sure you didn’t think these things were actually funny, but you were jaded from them happening. And of course, there are a few classic symptoms. It takes you hours to fall asleep, for example.”

_See, I fucking knew I would regret speaking to this woman. Here she is picking my whole life apart._

“And one more thing. These past few days. Most teenagers in your situation would be a mess, but you seem rather indifferent. That’s been a very telling sign of depression to me, your apparent lack of concern over this situation. If history tells us anything, you feel emotionally detached at the moment. That doesn’t mean your emotions are gone, they just express themselves in different ways. I think deep down, you’re incredibly angry over everything. Your parents, your brothers, your injury. But instead of expressing this anger, you just feel… nothing. And you deal with this anger through drinking, smoking, graffiti, setting fires, things like that. Would you agree with what I’m saying?”

“I guess so. Yeah. Depression, pyromania. My parents are going to love that,” he smiled and caught himself. “I’m doing it again.”

“I’ll explain it to them.”

“Fair warning, they’re going to be pissed.”

“Duncan, don’t worry,” she reassured him. “I can handle it. Dr. Cabot and I have had lots of practice. I think your parents are coming in this afternoon, we’ll talk to them then.”

“Alright.”

“It’ll be fine,” she smiled and gathered her notes. “I won't reveal anything personal we talked about.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” she stood up and flattened her skirt. “Rest up for a bit, I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

With that, she left the room. 

_This poor woman is going to get destroyed by my dad. Depression? Yeah, right. He’ll never buy that. He just won’t accept it. And my mom with her questions… Never mind the amnesia. This whole thing will be a mess._

Duncan appreciated Dr. Walterson’s words of encouragement, but nothing could prevent the oncoming storm about to unfold in that hospital room. He folded his left arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. 

_Depression… could she be right? I mean, she went to med school. Those scars are so faded now, it’s been at least two years…_

An hour or so later, there was a knock on the door. 

_Showtime. God help me._

“Duncan.”

His father stood in the doorway, his mother peering over his shoulder. 

“Hi.”

_So awkward… does he want an invitation?_

“Come in?”

“How are you?” His mother asked, voice full of concern. 

“Fine. Better.”

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Alasdair, you are here,” Dr. Cabot’s angelic voice floated from the hallway, rescuing Duncan from the awkward silence that would come from sitting with his parents. He entered the room carrying a file under one arm. 

“Ryan,” his father announced as he shook the doctor’s hand, no doubt with an iron grip. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Emily,” his mother shook Dr. Cabot’s hand.

“My name is Dr. Cabot, I am the radiologist who interpreted your son’s MRI. Dr. Walterson will be here in a moment, she’s just finishing up with another patient-”

“I’m here!” She burst into the room, a smile on her face and a file in her hands. “Hi, I’m Dr. Walterson. I’m a psychiatrist with the hospital, I met with your son earlier today.”

“A psychiatrist? Why does he need that?”

“We’ll explain everything,” she reassured Duncan’s father. “Why don’t we all take a seat? Dr. Cabot can start by going over the results of the MRI.”

Since there weren’t enough chairs in the hospital room, Duncan’s mother sat on the foot of his bed. He wanted her as far away from him as possible when all hell inevitably broke loose, but that wasn’t happening. 

“Right,” Dr. Cabot smiled. “Earlier today, I performed an MRI on your son’s brain.” He took out a large scan from his folder. “This is a side profile of the right hemisphere of his brain. Ryan, would you mind dimming the lights?”

His father did as he was instructed. Dr. Cabot took out a small flashlight from his deep lab coat pockets and shined it on the scan, illuminating the image. 

“I know it may be difficult to see, but this area shows swelling around the temporal lobe, which is the side of the head. It hosts the Hippocampus, which is responsible for long-term memory. Most likely, he suffered a hit to the head that’s causing his memory loss.”

“Will he get those memories back?” His mother asked, voice full of concern.

“I can’t say for sure. Most likely, he will remember the past few months in bits and pieces. As for the actual incident, Dr. Walterson and I believe he is suffering from Dissociative Amnesia. Doctor, care to explain?”

“Right,” she took over. “Dissociative amnesia is a term we use for amnesia with no physical cause.”

“But you just said he was hit in the head,” his father interrupted, turning the lights back on all the way. 

“Yes, but there are several factors at play. Dissociative amnesia usually happens when the brain tries to block out a traumatic event, say the span of a few hours. While Duncan may be able to remember the past few months eventually, he may have greater difficulty remembering the actual incident.”

“Great,” his father sighed. “That figures. The police are going to need you to remember that, you know,” he looked at his son. 

“Um, moving on,” Dr. Walterson looked between Duncan and his father, sensing an impending argument. “Dr. Cabot, do you have anything else to add?”

“No, I just recommend he takes it easy for a while. And of course, see a neurologist if you have any new symptoms such as slurred speech, weakness on one side, increased memory loss, anything like that. Dr. Walterson, I’ll hand it over to you.”

“Alright. I spoke with Duncan earlier, just to check in. As I’m sure you know, it’s been a very disorienting couple of days, so I asked him a few questions to see how he was doing.”

“Why? Is something wrong with him?” His father asked. 

“Did something happen?” His mother looked at him in a panic. 

“No, ma, it’s fine,” Duncan rolled his eyes. 

“We talked about the past few months, how everything is going at home-”

“Why are you talking to her about our personal lives?” His mother wanted to know. 

“Oh my God, who cares? She’s a doctor, what’s she gonna do? Put it in the newspapers?” 

“Anyways,” Dr. Walterson continued like a champ, “I have to say I had a few concerns.”

“What do you mean, ‘concerns,’?” Duncan’s father narrowed his eyes at her. 

“For one, I think the pyromania is something that needs to be addressed.”

“You’re telling me!” His father smiled and leaned back in his chair, satisfied with her answer. “I’ve been telling him that for years.”

“Also, he’s been dealing with depression for a long time.”

_There it is, rip off the band-aid._

“He has… depression?” His mother whispered the last word like it was a swear, then turned to look at him like he killed somebody. 

“Oh, don’t give me that, Duncan,” his father scoffed. “What did you tell this woman?”

“I don’t know,” he squirmed in his bed. “Just, like, stuff.”

“We had a detailed conversation about the past few years,” Dr. Walterson explained. “He told me about various aspects of his personal life, and I decided he met the criteria for depression.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss specifics, but one example would be a general sense of apathy.”

“So he’s lazy.”

“No, he’s depressed,” she remained perfectly composed. 

In the meantime, Duncan’s mother started her own conversation with him. 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this?” She asked with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think there was anything to tell you,” he picked at a loose thread on his sheets. 

“Of course there is, or she wouldn’t be telling me you’re depressed. Why are you doing this?”

“Ma, calm down!”

“Hang on,” his father continued. “You said you talked about his personal life, is this supposed to be some sort of attack on how I raise my kids?”

“No, this has nothing to do with that.”

“Then why is he like this?”

Duncan couldn’t help but wince at that. 

“If you’re asking what causes depression, it’s a combination of biological and environmental factors.”

“So you’re saying it’s how I raised him.”

“Is this our fault?” His mother devolved into full-fledged wailing. 

“No- look- everyone, please calm down!”

Dr. Cabot watched all of this with a completely straight face, probably glad he didn’t have to deal with these questions. 

“You know what?” Duncan’s father continued. “Fine. He has ‘depression’ and all that other stuff. Sure. How do you fix him?”

“Well, for the depression, pyromania, and dissociative amnesia I would really recommend going to therapy-”

“He can’t do that.”

“Oh. Um, why not?”

“Total Drama, remember?”

“What?”

“The police thing?” Dr. Cabot whispered. 

“Hmm? Oh, right…”

“He can still do that, right?” His mother asked. 

“Well,” Dr. Walterson pondered, “the two of us can’t legally stop him from going.”

“Perfect!” His dad smiled. “That’s what we all really care about, right? That he works on this case. I guess if he wants to go to therapy and all that stuff when he’s done, he can go right ahead.”

“I would strongly consider putting him on antidepressants-”

“No way,” his mother insisted. “Not happening. I’m not giving him that stuff.”

“Who cares? We’ll work it out after this case is solved,” his father explained. 

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Cabot stood up. “If you have no further questions for me, I must be going-”

“Oh, no, I think we’re all done here,” his father stood up. “Emily, do you have any questions?”

“No,” his mother wiped her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, don’t you think we should discuss this further?” Dr. Walterson asked from her chair. 

“What’s the need?” His father asked. “He’s well enough to work on the case. He’s not in immediate danger. He’ll be fine. Bye, Duncan. Oh, the police are stopping by tomorrow to go over the case with you and start getting you ready for June.”

“Bye, dad. Ma.”

“Bye, Duncan. Be safe,” she ran a hand through his hair before leaving to catch up with her husband. Dr. Cabot followed them out of the room. 

“Well,” Dr. Walterson stared after tham, “that was… intense.”

“Not as bad as I thought,” Duncan mumbled. 

_I thought that would be much worse...But I also thought I had a little more time before this Total Drama stuff started. I wonder what the police will want me to do? Whatever. I guess I’ll see for myself._

A/N Wow, this was a long one! There was a lot to get through in terms of Duncan’s physical/mental state, but next chapter (Friday) will be all about the actual plan to send him on Total Drama and all that good stuff. Thanks for reading!


	3. Ololygmancy

A/N Hi everyone! This is the last chapter before we go to the Island and meet the other contestants. It’s much shorter compared to the last one. I’ll publish the next chapter on Wednesday. Also, for reasons that may or may not be in this chapter, 171cm is the same as 5’7. Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Ololygmancy: Fortune-telling by the howling of dogs. 

“Hey, there he is!” Officer MacNeil’s booming voice rang echoed throughout Duncan’s hospital room, jerking him awake. “Oh, you were sleeping?”

“Yep,” Duncan rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the harsh overhead lights. 

_Great, what does he want?_

“Really? It’s past noon.”

“Didn’t your parents tell you we were coming?” Officer Walsh asked, briefcase in her arms. Duncan hadn’t even noticed she was there.

“They mentioned it last week.”

“Well,” MacNeil explained, “we have to start going over our plans for Total Drama.”

Duncan tossed his sheets aside and sat up fully in bed, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“What do you mean, ‘plans?’ Don’t I just have to show up?”

“You thought we’d just send you out there with no instructions?” MacNeil glanced over at Walsh and smiled like Duncan was a total idiot. “Of course we have plans. First of all, do you remember anything about the show?”

“I already said I didn’t.”

“Well, it’s hosted by this guy named Chris McLean. We have files for you to look through later, but he’s some 25-year-old celebrity host or something from Newfoundland. There’s also his co-host, a man he only refers to as “Chef,” age unknown, former military. These two are fully aware of our investigation. Apart from that, there will be twenty-two other contestants, mostly sixteen years old, from all different backgrounds across Canada. You’re the only one from Nova Scotia, just to minimize the risk of anyone else being targeted. Chris is going to split you up into teams when you get there, and every three days, you’ll compete in a challenge. The losing team votes on somebody to send home. Obviously, you want to stay in the game as long as possible. That’s partially why we needed Chris’ help-”

“Woah, woah. I don’t want to cheat the whole time. Aren’t the other contestants going to try really hard to win? I don’t want to ruin these people’s summer or anything.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll only take action if necessary. It’s TV, remember? They can edit anything to make anyone look good. Just don’t make a lot of enemies. You can do that, right?” He looked Duncan up and down with a complete lack of confidence. 

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Really?”

_I don’t TRY and make people hate me…_

“Yes, really.”

“Good. You’re still going to need to communicate with us, so we’ll be using these. Walsh, open the briefcase,” he ordered. Walsh set her briefcase down on a chair and popped the latch, taking out a few small devices that Duncan couldn’t see from his bed. 

“Here,” he took one out of her hands and tossed it to Duncan, who barely caught it without dropping the small black piece of metal between his fingers. 

“What’s this?”

“Think of it like a tiny walkie-talkie. You wear it in your left ear like an earbud. We can talk to you, hear what you hear, the list goes on. Just in case we need to give you instructions, or you back yourself into a corner.”

“That’s a little weird, don’t you think? You’re going to listen in on all my conversations?”

_Oh my God, I bet he’s a sexual predator. What if someone sucks me off, is he going to listen in? There’s no way that’s legal. Fucking perv._

“Why, have something to hide?” MacNeil smiled.

“I’m not doing that,” Duncan stared at him. “Not happening.”

“Jeez, relax.”

“We won’t be recording you the whole time,” Walsh picked up on his discomfort in the way that only a woman who had been cornered by a large man telling her to ‘relax’ in the past could. “Don’t worry. You’re already going to be on TV, there’s not much else to record. You can mostly use it to communicate with us. If you look on the side, there’s a few buttons.”

He examined the walkie-talkie. It looked like a small, black earbud without the chord. It had two buttons and a small dial.

“The one on top is the on and off button. Since all of these devices operate on the same channel, all you have to do is turn it on and you’re good to go. The dial is for volume. The smaller button on the bottom is for distress. Press it three times, and we’ll track your location and send someone out there.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll do that. But won’t anyone notice I’m wearing it?”

“You’ll have to grow out your hair. Just so covers your ears,” Walsh stated matter-of-factly. 

“Sorry, you’re saying I can’t keep my mohawk?”

“No way,” MacNeil snorted. “We need people to like you, remember?”

_He’s like a high school bully._

“Fine, but I’m still dyeing it. I’ll do streaks.”

“Do you want people thinking you’re some sort of punk?”

“What do you care? It’s not your hair,” Duncan grumbled.

“Walsh, come here for a sec?” MacNeil asked with a forced smile. 

“What?” She stepped closer to him.

“This is what his father was talking about,” he whispered loudly enough so Duncan could clearly hear him.

_Oh, of COURSE they talked about me beforehand. Why do I even try to be nice to these people?_

“What do we do?” Walsh asked him. “I mean, I don’t think it’s a big deal if we just let him dye it…”

“We have to pick out his entire outfit anyways, we may as well do it now. Well, Duncan!” MacNeil spun back around and smiled, spreading his arms. “How do you feel about picking out an outfit for the show?”

_With you? Terrible._

“Sure.”

“Remember, you need to be likeable so nobody votes you off.”

“But you can put a bit of your personality into the mix,” Walsh added.

“Take your time if you need.”

“It’s alright, I know exactly what I want. I’ve thought about it before.”

_But looking at these two, they’re gonna fuck it up. How do I make it clear?_

“Hang on, I’ll draw it out for you.” He leaned over and grabbed his sketchbook from his bedside table, flipping to a fresh page. Even though his skills weren’t completely back to normal, they were intact enough to sketch a few clothes. He could feel both officers staring at him as he began to draw. 

“Alright, first I’ll start with combat boots…” since he didn’t have any colored pencils, he just drew the word ‘brown’ next to them. 

“Sounds good,” Officer MacNeil voiced his approval. “Durable.”

“Dark blue jeans,” Duncan kept going. 

“Solid choice,” MacNeil nodded. 

_Dude, shut the fuck up. ___

__“Black belt, and here’s where it gets complicated… I’m going to draw a few shirts for you, just find whichever you can.”_ _

__“Let me see,” MacNeil walked over and peered over Duncan’s shoulder, something he couldn’t stand. Walsh followed close behind him._ _

__“What are the symbols?” Walsh furrowed her brow._ _

__“They’re band t-shirts,” Duncan explained._ _

__“Ah. I see.”_ _

__“Well,” MacNeil walked back to his spot in the center of the room after deciding he couldn’t give a shit about Duncan’s drawings. “We’ll do our best.”_ _

__“I need a bandana, checkered black and red, especially if my hair is going to be longer.”_ _

__“Alright,” Walsh nodded as she continued to stare at his hands while they moved across the page. He could tell she didn’t know what to do with herself, so she just stayed put._ _

__“I need two of these black wrist bands… you could probably find all of this at Hot Topic.”_ _

__“I’ve never been there,” MacNeil remarked._ _

___Oh, good luck man._ _ _

__“I have a few at home, but my parents probably went through my closet, so…”_ _

__“It’s fine, we’ll just buy the new ones,” Walsh sighed. “We need your sizes, though.”_ _

__“I’m a shoe size eleven. Probably a medium t-shirt.”_ _

__“Jeans?”_ _

__“No idea.”_ _

__“How tall are you?”_ _

__“171 centimeters.”_ _

__“Really?” MacNeil had to comment._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Nothing,” he shrugged. “I didn’t know you were short.”_ _

__“I thought you met my dad. We’re the same height.” Duncan rolled with it. He was used to the occasional comment about his height, but he knew he couldn’t get upset about it. Being short was one thing, but being short and obviously compensating for it was a whole different beast._ _

__“I guess you’re right,” MacNeil accepted his answer._ _

__“Oh, one more thing,” Duncan remembered. “Officer Walsh, is there any way you can go to Sephora and grab some black eyeliner?”_ _

__“Um… sure,” she seemed puzzled as she returned to her position next to Officer MacNeil._ _

__“Woah, woah, this stuff is just supposed to be for you. Who are you buying eyeliner for?” MacNeil disproved._ _

__“Me.”_ _

__“What are you going to do with it?”_ _

___See, I knew he wouldn’t get it._ _ _

__“Wear it.”_ _

__“What?” MacNeil thought this was hysterical. “You’re kidding me, right? Why?”_ _

__“I like it,” Duncan stood his ground._ _

__“Fine,” MacNeil gave in, “but you’re not wearing those piercings.”_ _

__“Fine, but I’m keeping the earrings. And I’m not shaving.”_ _

__“Fine. Deal.” MacNeil offered his hand, which Duncan shook. “We’ll be back when we have your clothes. In the meantime, go over these files,” he took out a stack of papers from the briefcase. “You won’t be able to take them when you leave. We’ll review the details of our plan when we come back, alright?”_ _

__“Sounds good,” Duncan accepted the papers._ _

__“We should have them in a couple days,” Walsh explained. “Goodbye, Duncan,” she closed her briefcase._ _

__“See ya.”_ _

__“Bye,” MacNeil called out as he left, Walsh close behind him, leaving Duncan with a mess of papers to get through._ _

___I’m not reading this shit._ _ _

__Still, he figures he may as well see what they were about. Opening the file revealed a newspaper article from August 23rd, 2006, that read, “Body Found In Driveway.”_ _

___Well, this isn’t going to be pleasant._ _ _

__A little more digging showed that the first few pages were newspaper articles from the Marlboro Murderer’s various attacks. Duncan didn’t know if the inmates in juvie received news from the outside world. There must have been a way of obtaining information, because from what Duncan could remember between August and November, the Marlboro Case made headlines every time there was an update in the investigation, and it was all the kids at school would talk about. Mostly, they would joke about it, tape newspaper articles across the lockers, dress up in all black, stupid shit like that. Personally, Duncan thought they were all just scared. He usually despised his parents curfew, but even he was nervous to be outside after dark._ _

__According to the dates in the newspapers, he only had three victims before Duncan went to juvie, so he didn’t know about most of the attacks. They all seemed brutal. Stabbing, shooting, bludgeoned to death- and every time, a body found covered in fresh cigarette burns. When he had enough of the violent details, Duncan moved on to the official police notes on the case. Just as Officer Walsh had said, there wasn’t much._ _

__“We have no existing footage of the Marlboro Murderer. Always attacks at night. Victims are always alone. Few survivors describe a man dressed in all black, and that is only defining feature. Recently, he started to attack relatives of police officers, stabbing their right shoulders and burning their left arms, but leaving them alive. We believed this was lucky, turns out he was taunting us- possibly. He came back for these victims and murdered them, stab wound to left side of chest. Most recent survivor- Duncan Alasdair- presumed next victim._ _

___Wonderful._ _ _

__The last part of the file was on Total Drama. It was short as well, written in Officer Walsh’s handwriting._ _

__“Total Drama- Reality TV show starring teenagers from Canada and the United States. Compete in challenges. Vote off contestants- winner gets 100k. Takes place “Camp Wawanakwa” off coast of Ontario.  
Host- Chris McLean. Born- Newfoundland. Twenty-five years old. Co-host- ‘Chef’ Hatchet. Age unknown. Former military. Seem to be close friends. McLean will have walkie-talkie. Both aware of investigation.”_ _

___How is this supposed to help?_ _ _

__He shut the file and set it on his bedside table, placing his sketchbook on top of it. All this talk of brutal murder was really starting to bum him out. Changing his mind on the sketchbook, he picked it back up and flipped through the pages. They were filled with half-hearted sketches of random objects in his room. There was also a page dedicated to Dr. Cabot, which was Duncan’s personal favorite. He picked up a pencil and figured he may as well keep practicing. He had yet to draw the chair in the corner._ _

___Wait a second… I can’t jerk off in the hospital, obviously. But I can’t do it on Total Drama, because I’ll be on TV. And I don’t know if I did it in juvie. So that’ll be… ten months without jerking off? That has to be some sort of record. Will I even last that long? I feel like if I do it even once before then, the dam will break. So it’s all or nothing. Is that even possible?_ _ _

__“Duncan?”_ _

__“Hmm?” He looked up to see Dr. Walterson standing in the doorway. “Oh, hi.”_ _

__“I’m coming by later on, just a heads up.”_ _

__“Sure. Sounds good.”_ _

___Fucking fantastic._ _ _

__Duncan was in no rush to speak with Dr. Walterson. Once was enough for him._ _

___So awkward… I didn’t mind telling her stuff when I thought I’d never see her again, but now?_ _ _

__By the time she came back to his room, the sun had begun to set._ _

__“How late do you work?” He asked out of curiosity._ _

__“I work late on Wednesday’s,” she waved him off. “Doctor’s hours. It’s all over the place. Don’t worry about it. Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about this case.”_ _

__“What about it?”_ _

__“Well, it’s already May, and there’s not a lot of time left before you leave. I’d like to hear your thoughts. Are you nervous at all?” She took out her clipboard and began to write the moment he answered._ _

__“Nah. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, the police have their plans and all that.”_ _

__“And what is the plan, exactly?”_ _

___Right, she can’t break confidentiality._ _ _

__“I don’t know. Nobody’s told me anything, of course.”_ _

__“Why ‘of course’?”_ _

__“I don’t know, it’s just nobody ever tells me anything. Apparently Officer MacNeil spoke with my dad.”_ _

__“That bothers you?”_ _

__“I guess so, it just means that Officer MacNeil has this pre-conceived notion of me as a punk criminal. He gets on my nerves anyways.”_ _

__“Tell me how this idea of you joining this investigation came about?”_ _

__“The police came to speak with me after I woke up from the coma. They told me about the case and asked me to help.”_ _

__“And you said yes?”_ _

__“Hell no. I wanted nothing to do with it.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“I’m not a huge fan of the police, to be honest.”_ _

__“Explain that.”_ _

__“Well, I can only go off personal experience, because even my extended family is made up of cops, but it’s like this. You’d think only people who are right empathetic would be cops, right? Because they’d want to help people. But a lot of the officers I’ve met use it like a power trip. Like, at Christmas dinner my relatives will talk about people they’ve arrested through the year and the whole thing rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know, it just seems invasive. I’m sure there are good cops out there, but that’s my experience.”_ _

__“Interesting,” she scribbled, “so why did you change your mind on the case?”_ _

__“Oh. Officer Walsh tried to guilt me about his future victims, and I still didn’t want to do it, and then they sent in my brother.”_ _

__“The one in prison…” she looked through her notes, “Charlie?”_ _

__“Yep. And then he guilted me also. So I agreed to go.”_ _

__“It sounds to me like you don’t want to be there.”_ _

__“It’s more like going is better than not going. Lesser of two evils.”_ _

__“How so?” She tilted her head and rested her pen against her clipboard._ _

__“Well, Charlie put it like this. I’m already months behind in school, and if I go back at this point everyone will think I’m some stunned dropout. I don’t want to go home and live with my parents with no escape. And if I go to juvie, I’ll be known as the vulnerable idiot who got stabbed. Easy target, you know? Plus, the Marlboro Murderer is coming back for me anyways, so I may as well make myself useful.”_ _

__“Well,” Dr. Walterson pondered his answer. “I can’t prevent you from going, you know. But just keep in mind that it’s alright to put your own mental well-being first. The Marlboro Murderer’s actions don’t rest on your shoulders. If he kills someone, that has nothing to do with whether or not you join this investigation, alright?”_ _

__“Ok,” Duncan nodded._ _

__“Good, as long as you understand that.”_ _

__“Yep, I understand,” he affirmed._ _

___Hang on, I never even CONSIDERED that he’d kill someone. Wow, I really put no thought into this. Did I make a terrible decision?_ _ _

__“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”_ _

___And those newspaper articles were so dark… I mean, he broke that one woman’s spine with a baseball bat. Is he gonna do that to me?_ _ _

__“Nope.”_ _

___No, he stabbed those other survivors in the heart… Wait… He’s going to stab me in the heart. Oh my God. What? And I’m going to seek him out?_ _ _

__“Alright,” she smiled. “Here,” she tore off a piece of paper and scribbled something down before handing it over to him. “This is my phone number. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.”_ _

__“Thank you,” he looked down at the numbers, which were quickly fading into a blur._ _

___Fuck fuck fuck I need this woman to get out of here. I’m gonna throw up. Why is she still here?_ _ _

__“Goodbye, Duncan. In case I don’t see you again before you leave, good luck,” she smiled._ _

__“Thank you,” he smiled back at her._ _

___Leave!_ _ _

__Dr. Walterson finally stood up and left the room. Duncan watched to make sure she was gone before taking a shaky breath. For some reason, his heart was pounding in his chest._ _

___What… what’s going on?_ _ _

__He desperately tried to control his breathing and slow his heart while he felt a wave of freezing sweat drip down his arms and back. The monitor next to his bed began to set off a piercing shriek. He ripped the device recording his heart rate off of his finger and flung it across the room, praying that a nurse wouldn’t burst into the room to see what happened._ _

___I’m going to die._ _ _

__He dragged his palms along the sheets to try and remove some of the sweat as he paced across the room._ _

___I’m actually going to die here. Is this a heart attack? Should I get a doctor? No, pull yourself together…_ _ _

__He ran a shaky hand through his hard._ _

___God, I can’t breathe in here. I didn’t have any problems with my lungs before-_ _ _

__“Duncan?” Kathy opened the door. “Are you alright? I knocked, but you didn’t answer.”_ _

__“Yeah,” he tried to appear as fine as possible._ _

__“Hey, hey, sit down,” she led him over to his bed. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking. Deep breaths.”_ _

__“I don’t know,” his voice shook. “I’m scared.”_ _

__“Give me your wrist,” she took his pulse. “You’re probably having a panic attack. Take my hands.”_ _

__“They’re sweaty,” he apologized._ _

__“It’s fine. Just breathe. Has this ever happened to you before?”_ _

__“No,” he shook his head. “I was talking to Dr. Waltherson about the case, and I was thinking about the newspaper articles, and he’s gonna stab me-”_ _

__“Do you want me to get Dr. Waltherson for you?”_ _

__“Don’t. Please.”_ _

___She might not let me go._ _ _

__“I’m already starting to feel better.”_ _

__“Are you sure?” She looked like she didn’t believe him, and the fact that he was gripping her hands didn’t help his case. “Why don’t I stay here for a bit, just in case?”_ _

__“Sure. If you want. Please.”_ _

__“Alright,” she looked at his hands._ _

__“I threw my heart rate monitor on the floor.”_ _

__“That’s ok.”_ _

__She waited for ten more minutes until he was well enough to stay on his own. The moment she was gone, he flopped down on his bed and curled up on his pillow._ _

___A panic attack? God, that’s so embarrassing. I hope Kathy doesn’t tell anyone… Especially the police, I’m sure they’ll give me shit for it._ _ _

__Speaking of police, Duncan knew they would take their time showing up with the clothes. The moment Walsh said it’d be a day or so, it was obvious bullshit. It took them an entire week to visit Duncan again._ _

__“We have your stuff,” MacNeil announced his presence. “Catch,” he threw a Hot Topic bag at Duncan. Next to MacNeil, Walsh appeared to be weighed down by various bags and boxes, which she set on a chair._ _

__“Try it on until something fits,” MacNeil ordered, “then we’ll go over our final plans with you before you leave.” He made sure Walsh was out of the room before he shut the door, leaving Duncan alone._ _

___Let’s see how they did…_ _ _

__The bag MacNeil threw at him had boxes of black and green hair dye, which Duncan had to admit was a nice catch. He partially expected them to purposefully forget about that. Setting the boxes on his bedside table, he sifted through the bags. One of them was definitely from Hot Topic, meaning one of the officers must have gone inside the store._ _

___Oh, I hope it was MacNeil. That place has to be his nightmare._ _ _

__That bag had the belt, bandana, wrist bands, and surprisingly enough, several packages of earrings._ _

___Must have been Walsh, then, because these aren’t that bad. At least she understands the general theme._ _ _

__There were a few pairs of jeans that he tried on until he found one that fit, and a standard pair of dark brown combat boots, which he sat down to tie._ _

___Damn, I should’ve asked them to buy a Céline Dion CD as well, just so I could track down that song and listen all the way through. Oh, well._ _ _

__When he finished with his laces, he looked at the t-shirts, also from Hot Topic._ _

___Not bad… But which one do I choose? Wait. This one. Artificial Peace. Definitely._ _ _

__He put on the shirt, tied the bandana around his neck, added the wristbands and belt, and snuck a glance in the mirror in his bathroom._ _

___I have to fix the hair, but the rest looks alright. Did she get eyeliner?_ _ _

__Another look in the mess of bags revealed that Walsh kept her word and bought him a tube of black eyeliner._ _

___And this is the good quality stuff…_ _ _

__“Are you done?” MacNeil asked from outside._ _

__“Yep,” Duncan answered._ _

__“Finally,” he opened the door and stared Duncan up and down. “Well, if that’s what you people are wearing these days…But anyways, we have plans to go over. Sit down.”_ _

__He took a seat on the edge of his bed, while Walsh brought in her briefcase and set it on her lap taking the chair closest to him. As usual, MacNeil remained standing._ _

__“There’s only two months until June,” MacNeil explained. “So, in exactly two weeks, we’ll be sending someone to drive you to the airport, and then you’ll fly to Toronto. From there, you’ll catch a connecting flight to Muskoka, where you’ll be meeting up with the other contestants. Walsh, myself, and other members of the Nova Scotia Police will be collaborating with members of the Ontario Police in the area. Give him the map.”_ _

__Walsh opened up the briefcase and took out a piece of paper, handing it over to Duncan._ _

__“This is a map of the Island,” MacNeil explained. “The man driving you to the airport is going to give you a bag with a few additional items in it. One of them is a camera. When you get to the Island that first night, we need you to walk around the perimeter with that camera and take some videos, alright? We’ll give you detailed instructions later on.”_ _

___It’s always ‘later on,’ isn’t it? Why not give me the whole plan now?_ _ _

__“We’ll probably send Chris McLean with you,” Walsh explained._ _

__“A few more ground rules-”_ _

__“Excuse me?” Someone interrupted. It was Dr. Romaro in the hallway._ _

__“Yes?” MacNeil was obviously annoyed._ _

__“This is for Total Drama, right?” She was unbothered. “Really quick, a few notes. Duncan, you have to take it easy on your right shoulder, ok? I’m going to have you wrap it up to prevent any more damage.”_ _

__“Can this wait?” MacNeil complained._ _

__“I can do it while you talk, if you like.”_ _

__“Fine,” MacNeil sighed._ _

__“Perfect,” Dr. Romaro smiled. “Duncan, take off your shirt real quick? I’m just using ACE bandages for this. You shouldn’t have to wrap it every day, but I’ll send you with a few rolls. It’s to prevent your shoulder from jerking or moving too much.”_ _

__He did as he was instructed and listened while Dr. Romaro draped the bandages across his body._ _

__“As I was saying,” MacNeil continued, “a few ground rules. You can’t tell anybody why you’re there. You could compromise the entire investigation. If anyone brings up the Marlboro Murderer, pretend like you don’t know anything. Is that clear?”_ _

__“Yes, sir.”_ _

__“And just… don’t be stupid. Don’t do anything to put yourself in unnecessary danger, alright?”_ _

__“Will do.”_ _

__“All done,” Dr. Romaro announced. “Good luck,” she smiled and nodded to both officers before leaving the room. Duncan put his shirt back on._ _

__“Spend these next few days resting,” Walsh suggested. “And you’ll hear from us in two weeks. Sound good?”_ _

__“I can do that.”_ _

__“Alright,” she still looked uncertain. “That’s all for now.”_ _

__“We’ll see you, Duncan. Goodbye,” MacNeil stepped towards the door. “Oh, and your parents say good luck. They’re busy with this case, as I’m sure you know, so they wanted me to tell you that in case they couldn’t get here before you leave.”_ _

__“Ah. Thanks.”_ _

___They’re not coming._ _ _

__“Goodbye,” Walsh nodded as she followed MacNeil out the door._ _

__“Bye,” Duncan called out._ _

___Whatever._ _ _

__The next two weeks were fairly slow. Duncan fixed his hair the best he could manage. He dyed the whole thing black, his natural hair color, and added streaks of green. He had to admit, it didn’t look half-bad. He did some more drawings. Part of him wanted to give them to Dr. Cabot as a gift, but thankfully he realized that would be a terrible idea. His handwriting was almost indistinguishable from before the stabbing. He refused to look at the newspaper articles again. Maybe he should have been better-educated on his target, but he thought if he read anymore, it would only make him more nervous._ _

__Soon enough, his two weeks were up. He made sure to wear the clothes he picked out, and when he left the bathroom, there were two police officers standing in the doorway._ _

__“Duncan Alasdair?” One spoke._ _

__He nodded his head._ _

__“We’re with the Nova Scotia Police Department. We’ll be driving you to the airport. Are you ready to go?”_ _

__“Yep.”_ _

__“Anything else you need to take with you?”_ _

__He turned to survey the room he spent the last six- no, nine- weeks in. He took his sketchbook, and the eyeliner, but besides that…_ _

__“No. I’m ready to go.”_ _

__“Alright then. Follow us out.”_ _

__In a weird way, that hospital room was almost his new home. It had the function of a bedroom, with all the stifling restrictions of actually living in his house. He shut the door on his way out._ _

___Good riddance._ _ _

__“You’re leaving?” Chloe, the girl clutching onto her stuffed rabbit, watched as he walked down the hallway._ _

__“Yep.”_ _

__“Oh. Well, goodbye!” She offered her hand._ _

__“Oh. Bye, Chloe,” he shook her hand._ _

__“Say goodbye to Clover too?” She looked up at him as she offered her rabbit._ _

__“Eh… sure. Goodbye, Clover” he shook his paw._ _

___Rabbit… Rabbit… miss you, Rabbit… never let you go…_ _ _

__“Um, are you alright?”_ _

__“Hmm?”_ _

__“You’ve been staring at Clover for like, ten whole seconds.”_ _

__“Oh. Sorry.”_ _

___What just happened?_ _ _

__“Dude,” Chloe shook her head at him. “It’s just a stuffed animal. Let go.”_ _

__He looked down to see that he was holding onto her rabbit with an iron grip. If he pulled any more, he’d tear his arm right off._ _

__“Can we go?” One of the officers asked._ _

__“Yeah. Sorry.” Duncan let go of the stuffed animal. “Bye, Chloe.”_ _

__“Sure. Bye.” She was obviously weirded out. He continued to follow the officers._ _

___I am so fucked._ _ _

__A/N Cringe illustration: https://charred-chocolate.tumblr.com/post/623221295927148544/heres-the-bomb-ass-punk-outfit-i-gave-him-for_ _


	4. Lithophilous

A/N We finally made it! Hope you all enjoy! I’ll post the next chapter on Wednesday. Also, since somebody did ask, I will clarify and say this is not a custom season, but the regular Total Drama Island. Also, some housekeeping: After this chapter, I’m really going to try and keep this fic moving, so I’m shortening the challenges and doing several challenges in one chapter, otherwise we’ll be here forever. Also, for my fellow Malcan/Muncan fans who are wondering where the fuck he is: starting next chapter, he is going to be much more heavily referenced until he starts making physical appearances, and that’s all I’m going to tell you. 

Chapter Four

Lithophilous: Living amongst stones. 

Neither of the officers spoke on the way to the airport. Duncan didn’t mind the silence. It gave him a chance to reflect on the scene in the hallway. As he sat in the backseat of the unmarked gray car, he gazed out the window at the passing highway. 

_It’s like I blacked out for a second… Because of a stupid stuffed animal? I need to get a grip. If someone sees me doing that, I won’t have an explanation._

“Here. Take this,” one of the officers tossed a small bag in the backseat. “Don’t open it, we don’t want you to lose anything. Wait until you get there. It has things you’ll need.”

_They treat me like a little kid…_

“This folder has your passport, ticket, and boarding pass. Again,-”

“Don’t lose it,” Duncan finished for him as he took the folder. 

“Right. One of us will escort you to the gate.”

He wanted to be annoyed that the police didn’t trust him to make his flight, but he knew damn well he’d never been in an airport alone before, and apparently he wasn’t in the best state of mind. Someone had to show him where to go. 

“We’re almost there… do you know where you’re parking?” He asked the other officer. 

“Nope.”

“Hang on, turn there-”

“Ah, shit, missed it. Give me a sec…”

“Hope the lines not too long, they jack up the prices for parking.”

“Fuck that, we’re not paying for parking.”

_Of course._

“Here we are,” the officer in the passenger announced as the car came to a stop. “Who’s going with him?”

“I’m not going.”

“Dude, I don’t want to go,” he whispered. 

“Rock paper scissors?”

“Fine. Rock...paper...scissors… damn it!” He turned around and plastered a smile on his face. “Alright, Duncan, looks like I’ll be taking you. We have a suitcase for you in the trunk.”

The officer, who still hadn’t given Duncan his name because he honestly didn’t give a shit, insisted on holding his bag and folder while Duncan dragged the suitcase. The airport was mostly empty, which was to be expected for a Wednesday afternoon. 

“We have to check in,” the officer nodded towards a desk with a small line. “You’re taking your suitcase on board with you.”

While they stood in line, Duncan looked around. He couldn’t remember the last time he flew. Nobody in his town traveled that much, and his parents were no different. Part of it was money, sure. They didn’t have a lot of it. His family wasn’t desperately poor, but between legal fees and Nova Scotia’s general economic troubles that he couldn’t escape hearing about, they weren’t about to take a trip to Bali. Besides that, his parents didn’t trust him and his brother not to get arrested in a foreign country, or cause some sort of problem. Duncan didn’t mind. With all of the fighting that would probably take place on any sort of family vacation, he’d rather not go. 

“I’m here to check him in,” the officer announced when they reached the front of the line. 

“Name?” The woman behind the desk asked Duncan, a bored expression plastered across her face.

“Duncan Alasdair,” he answered. 

“ID?”

“I have his passport…” the officer dug through the folder and slid Duncan’s passport and boarding pass over the counter. She barely glanced at it. 

“Alright,” she punched a few letters into a computer and scribbled onto his boarding pass. “You’re done.”

“I’ll be escorting him to the gate.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” she didn’t look up from her computer. 

“I’m with the police,” he put his badge, ID, and a few papers on the counter.

“Fine,” she sighed, gathering them in her hands to look over. She tapped a few more keys on her computer. “Give a few minutes,” she announced, much to the annoyance of everybody in line behind them, “I have to print something.” She left the desk, presumably to find a printer. 

_I’m sure they have a printer behind the desk. She probably just wanted an excuse to leave._

Sure enough, she came back a few minutes later holding an iced coffee. 

“Alright. Hang on.” She sipped her coffee while typing a few more keys. A buzzing sound signified that something was printing nearby. “Here,” she reached under the counter, scribbled a few words on a piece of paper, and slid it over to the officer, “take this through TSA.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Bye.” She was eager to get them out of there. Duncan just nodded a farewell as the nameless officer started to walk away, not bothering to check if Duncan was behind him. 

“Wait, hang on,” Duncan tried to maneuver his suitcase without crashing into anyone. When he finally caught up, the unnamed officer was already getting in line at security. 

“Sorry we have to wait,” he glanced at the line, which wasn’t even that long. “Provincial law enforcement can’t bypass security if we’re flying into another province.”

Duncan really couldn’t give a shit if he had to wait in a five minute line. When it was his turn, the officer put his bags on the conveyor belt, while they both walked through a metal detector. While he collected his suitcase, the officer looked at his boarding pass. 

“Terminal C… down here. Follow me.”

The two of them walked in silence, passing hurried travellers and tired TSA agents. 

_I don’t get why he’s so pissed to be here… if I were him, I’d be right fuckin’ thrilled to get out of work and drive some kid to the airport. The fuck does he care? He still gets paid! Makes no fucking sense…_

“Here we are… Halifax to Toronto. We still have half an hour until they call boarding… are you hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Are you sure? You have at least three hours from now until you land.”

_He just wants me out of here._

“Look, if I give you twenty bucks, do you promise to be back here in thirty minutes, and not do anything stupid?”

_Score. Can’t pass that up._

Duncan nodded his head, trying to appear as innocent as possible. 

“Great. Here,” the officer reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing Duncan twenty dollars. “Be back here on time.”

“Sure.”

Even if he didn’t have the opportunity to do anything too crazy being in an airport and all, Duncan still appreciated the chance to be alone for the first time in six months. No doctors poking their heads in the door, no prison guards yelling at him (he could only guess that’s what juvie was like, he still had no idea), just him walking alone unsupervised. He chose to duck into a convenience store and buy a Kit Kat with his newfound freedom. As he wandered through the aisles, he picked up a bottle of water and made his way to the register. Waiting for the woman in front of him to finish, he stared aimlessly ahead until his eyes rested upon a small box next to the cash register. 

_That can’t be what I think it is…_

Sure enough, a container of BIC lighters sat on the counter directly in his line of sight. Only two dollars each. He felt the money in his hand and became acutely aware that he hadn’t burned anything since he’d been arrested-

_No. What are you doing? The officer might notice, and then what?_

The cashier finished ringing up her items. 

_Idiot, how would he even realize? Just don’t bring back a receipt and put it in your pocket. He’s clearly not paying attention to you._

“Your total will be $11.39,” the cashier smiled. The woman dug into her purse. 

_Just because you buy it doesn’t mean you’re going to do anything with it. Maybe it will be useful for other things, like… roasting marshmallows._

“I’m sure I have exact change… here you go,” the woman put the money on the counter. 

_Don’t kid yourself, you know exactly what you want to do. It’s a slippery slope, and you’ve been there before. Just leave it be._

“Next customer?” 

“Hi,” Duncan put the KitKat and water on the counter. 

“Will that be all for today?”

“And this,” he grabbed a lighter and put it in front of him. 

“Alright, that’ll be $12.33,” the cashier read off the number. He put the twenty on the counter. “Do you want a receipt for that?”

“No thanks,” he took his change and put the lighter in his pocket.

“Have a nice day.”

_You fucking idiot… You just never learn, do you?_

But he couldn’t deny the feeling of relief that washed over him as he felt the familiar smooth metal against his skin when he put his hand in his pocket. 

“You’re back,” the officer didn’t look at Duncan or ask what he bought. 

“Here’s your change.”

“Oh. Thanks,” he reached out his hand and took it. Duncan followed his line of sight to a TV screen, where someone on ESPN was discussing the Ottawa Senators. 

“Think they have a chance this year?” The officer mused. 

“I don’t follow hockey,” Duncan shrugged.

“Why not?”

“Well, I was in a coma. And then in the hospital. Juvie. You know.”

“Oh.” He didn’t care. “Well, here’s your stuff.” He gestured to the bag, folder, and suitcase on the chair next to him. “You can board and everything?”

“Yep.”

“Good. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Needless to say, the nameless officer did not restore Duncan’s confidence in the Nova Scotia police system. 

He boarded the plane without an issue. The flight was only half-full, so there was plenty of room in the overhead compartment for his suitcase. He sat in the window seat, and the only other person in his row, who sat on the aisle, was a man in a suit who barely glanced in his direction. 

As the plane flew over the Bay of Fundy and crossed into New Brunswick, Duncan was reminded of an old song from back home. He would never be the obnoxious asshole to hum a song in public, but he played it quietly in his head as he looked out over the water. 

_Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast  
Let your mountains dark and dreary be  
When I am far away, on the bring ocean tossed  
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?_

His flight was only two hours, and for the most part, boring. He ate the KitKat, stared out the window, and read the safety protocols due to a sheer force of boredom. Finally, the captain’s voice came over the intercom. 

“Good afternoon, we are beginning our descent into Toronto. Local time is 1:35 PM, Eastern Daylight Time. Halifax time is 2:35 PM, Atlantic Daylight Time…”

_Only an hour time difference… not too bad._

When the plane landed, Duncan gathered his suitcase, folder, and bag, trying to figure out where he was supposed to make his connecting flight. He made it off the airplane and looked around, completely lost. A look at his boarding pass revealed his flight left in two hours, which gave him more than enough time to find his gate. 

_Let’s see… Terminal B? No idea what that is…_

It didn’t help that unlike the airport back home, the one in Toronto was packed with people who all seemed to know where they were going. Squinting up at the signs plastered on the walls of the airport, he started to walk in what he thought was the right direction, praying he didn’t miss his flight. 

_Christ, where’s this fuckin’ gate? It’s an airport, not a maze…_

“Hey! You, um, there. Green haired guy.”

Duncan turned around to see a black-haired teenager standing behind him. He wore a green shirt with a black hand print, and had a guitar strapped across his back.

“Yeah?”

“Does ‘Total Drama’ mean anything to you?”

“Oh. Yeah. You too?”

“Yep,” he smiled. “I’m kind of lost.”

“Oh, thank fuck. I can’t find the damn gate anywheres.”

“Ah. Well, I’m Trent. Cohen.”

“Duncan Alasdair,” he stepped to the side to let a swarm of people rushing to make their flight pass them. 

“Where are you from?” The two of them began to walk. “I’m guessing we’re going in the right direction.”

“Nova Scotia. Small town in the South. You?”

_God, how much of an obnoxious asshole do you have to be to bring a guitar on an airplane? This fuckin’ guy. I gotta say something. I’m sorry, it’s too much. It’s a damn shame… he’s actually cute, but the guitar just ruins it._

“I could tell. You know, you have kind of an accent. ‘Anywheres.’ You say that kind of stuff where you’re from, right? Well, I’m from here. Ontario. Like half an hour away. Oh look, the gate's right over there,” he pointed up ahead. 

“Nice catch. So, Trent, what do you do?”

“Play guitar, mostly.”

_Here’s my chance. Nothing too harsh, I can’t make enemies THAT quickly… but a little something-something._

“Wow, I never would’ve guessed,” Duncan eyed the guitar slung across his back. “I thought you were just holding that for someone. Don’t tell me you’re the guy who brings guitars to parties?”

Clearly, Trent wasn’t expecting that answer. He probably thought Duncan would say something like “oh wow man, that’s really cool!” or “that’s awesome, I’ve always wanted to learn guitar!” 

“Oh. Um,” Trent tried to recover, “haha, I guess.”

“Hey, you do you, I guess.” Duncan shook his head and smiled like he found the entire thing to be hilarious, a joke that Trent didn’t quite understand. 

_Perfect, that’s enough for now. Just to throw him off._

“Look, we made it,” Duncan announced before Trent could comment further. “And we still have some time.”

“Cool,” Trent smiled. They had reached the gate. “Maybe there’s more of us nearby?”

For some inexplicable reason, it bothered Duncan how Trent referred to them as “us.” They weren’t friends. They were nothing alike. This wasn’t some sort of bullshit buddy-comedy movie where they’d go on fun adventures together- he was here for a reason.

“Yeah, maybe-”

“Hi guys! Are you here for Total Drama?” A shrill voice muffled by braces shrieked. A short girl with a ponytail, thick glasses, and a geeky smile waved at Duncan and Trent. 

“Oh, you too?” Trent tried to be nice to her. 

“Yep! My name is Beth, I just flew in from Alberta! There’s a few of us sitting over here if you want to join us?” She looked up at them like she would cry if they said no. 

_See… I can’t even make fun of her. I feel too bad._

“Sure,” Trent smiled. “Right, Duncan?” He elbowed Duncan in the ribs, thankfully on his left side. 

“Of course.”

“Great!” Beth was thrilled as she began to lead them towards a section of chairs. “Here, I’ll introduce you to everyone!”

A pair of kids who looked his age were sitting down. They both looked like they wanted nothing to do with each other. Neither of them were speaking, preferring to stare at the floor. 

“Hey guys, I found a few stragglers!” Beth announced.

“What’s up,” the girl smiled and waved. “I’m Bridgette.”

_Ok, she’s kind of cute…_

“Trent,” he smiled. 

“Duncan.”

“What happened to your arm?” Beth wanted to know. Duncan looked down at the bandages wrapped around his right shoulder peeking out from under his sleeve. 

“Ah,” he thought of the cover-up story he rehearsed with the police. They wanted him to say something non-specific, just so nobody could ask any more questions. “I just pulled a few muscles. It should be fine.”

“This is Noah,” Bridgette thankfully moved on from him and gestured to the kid sitting next to her. His face was buried in a book, and he didn’t even look up when Bridgette said his name.

“Hey,” Noah mumbled. 

“What are you reading?” Trent sat down in the seat opposite Noah, putting his guitar in the empty seat next to him, forcing Duncan to sit next to Beth. 

“Watership Down,” Noah didn’t take his eyes off the page. 

“Oh, I haven’t read it,” Duncan tried to be friendly. 

“Well, I wouldn’t have expected you to. You don’t seem like the reading type. I’d be shocked if you ever learned how.” 

_I have to say something. No way can I let him get away with saying that type of shit to me. If we weren’t in an airport, I’d break his fuckin’ jaw. You know what? Fuck it. This isn’t worth it. I’m not letting some kid talk to me like that-_

“Bridgette, where are you from?” Trent cut in before Duncan could do anything. He was great at breaking up tension, Duncan had to give it that. 

“California.”

“America? That’s cool. I’ve never been to California,” Trent smiled at her.

“I like it. I live near the beach, it’s like a small surfing town” she gestured to a surfboard sitting on a nearby seat. 

“No way! I’ve always thought it’d be cool to live near the ocean. I’m from here in Ontario, so I’ve never learned how to surf.”

“Maybe I can teach you?”

“For real?”

_He’s cool… and yet there’s something about him that seems so fake. Like a robot pretending to be a teenager. I kind of want to punch him._

“What about you, Duncan?” Bridgette asked. “Done any surfing?”

“Hmm?” He was disappointed to be dragged back into the conversation when he’d much rather sit quietly until it was time to board. “Ah. No surfing for me.”

_I had a brutal comatose nightmare where I suffocated underwater, and it was so cold my entire body stopped working. So no, Bridgette, I do not surf._

“I don’t surf either,” Beth inserted herself into the conversation, as she was obviously feeling left out. 

“Ah. Well, you should. It’s fun,” Bridgette explained.

“I can’t. Because I live on a farm.”

“Oh.”

And that was all the will-power anybody had to keep the conversation going. Noah was absorbed in his book, Bridgette and Beth didn’t know what else to say, Duncan didn’t want to be there, and Trent knew that forcing any additional conversation would be very un-cool of him, so he just shut his mouth. Thankfully, the flight attendants called for boarding only several minutes later, and since Duncan wasn’t sitting near the others, he managed to avoid any more chatter. He made sure he had his suitcase, bag, and folder before he said his momentary goodbyes, thankful for the flight as an excuse to sit quietly. 

The flight to Muskoka was less than an hour, and Duncan was almost upset when the pilot announced they were landing. He gripped his lighter in his pocket as the plane dipped towards the ground. 

_No going back now. I should have made a run for it in Toronto. God, I’m so dumb. They never would’ve found me. I could’ve just… disappeared._

As he followed the line of passengers off the plane, once again making sure he had everything with him, he tried to find anybody he recognized. Thankfully, Trent had already gotten off before him, so the two of them waited together for the others to arrive. 

“Alright, now what do we do?” Bridgette looked around for some sort of sign telling her where to go. 

“No idea,” Trent shrugged. “Should we just go to the exit?”

“Wait, didn’t they send us instructions?” Bridgette remembered. 

“I’m pretty sure I left those on my kitchen counter…” Trent smiled sheepishly. “Duncan, do you have yours?”

_I have no idea what you’re talking about._

“Oh, yeah, I think they’re in my suitcase somewhere…”

“I have them right here!” Beth announced. “Ok, wait, let me read it-”

“Where are we going?” Noah asked, flipping a page of his book, oblivious to the conversation happening around him. 

“We’re working on it, Noah,” Bridgette answered through gritted teeth, trying her best to be patient. 

“Alright,” Beth read off the instruction, “we’re supposed to meet near the baggage claim. Anyone know where that is?”

“Let’s just start walking,” Duncan offered, eager to get out of there. 

“Is everyone alright with that?” Trent asked the group. 

_Dude, really? Do we have to ask everyone? Let’s just go!_

“You guys can have your group discussion, I’m gonna start walking. Feel free to come with me.” Duncan began to walk in what he hoped was the right direction. Noah took one glance at the remaining travellers and figured he’d rather leave as well, following Duncan towards the baggage claim. 

“Alright, I guess we’re going,” Trent smiled, although he was obviously pissed that Duncan ignored his orders for a group vote because he didn’t try to make any more conversation as they walked through the airport. 

“Think he knows anything?” Bridgette nodded towards a scrawny man standing next to the baggage claim holding a piece of paper with the words “Total Drama” written in marker. 

“May as well check…” Trent took charge again. “Excuse me, we’re here for Total Drama?”

“Oh, thank God,” he looked relieved. A closer look revealed he couldn’t have been older than twenty. “Chris would’ve killed me if I couldn’t find you guys. Please tell me there’s five of you? Wait, wait…” he took out a piece of paper from his pocket and began to read. “Beth, Bridgette, Duncan, Noah, Trent?” He looked at the group assembled in front of him. “That’s you, right? Please?”

“Um, yes,” Trent glanced at the others. “That’s us.”

“Thank God…” he looked like he was about to cry. “I’m one of his interns, and I just… Please, let’s get out of here. The van is waiting outside. Follow me. And stay together!”

“Are you alright, man?”

“Come on… let’s go.”

The intern led the five of them out of the exit doors and into an unmarked white van. Duncan looked at the others to see if any of them thought this was as weird as he did, but neither of the girls appeared too concerned. He caught Trent’s eye and sent a look of “what the fuck is going on?,” but Trent just smiled and shrugged, while Noah was still reading his book, oblivious to the fact that he was now in a van. 

_Did none of them ever get one of those stranger-danger talks? Christ, if they moved to Nova Scotia, the Marlboro Murderer would get to them in a matter of days._

There was another intern sitting in the driver's seat. Once they were all inside the van, the original intern slammed the door and sat in the passenger’s seat. 

“Chris doesn’t want you guys to talk to each other,” the driver announced. “So be quiet.”

“Oh. Alright,” Trent smiled. 

_Um, what the fuck? Are we getting kidnapped? Is anyone gonna do anything?_

Duncan made sure to pay attention to the landmarks outside the window on the short ride to the airport, just in case. 

When the van slowed down, they appeared to be on the shore of a large lake. There were a bunch of other kids standing around, and a dock ran up to a large yacht floating in the water. 

“Get out,” the driver ordered. 

“Thank you for the ride!” Trent smiled.

_Fuck you, dude._

“Get out,” the driver repeated. “Leave your bags in the van.”

“Alright.”

_Is it alright for me to leave the bag the police gave me? I feel like I have to keep it… Fuck it, I’ll just stuff it in my suitcase._

The five of them were herded into a group with the others. Everybody seemed weirdly quiet, and it wasn’t until the intern from the passenger’s seat began speaking that they realized why. He cupped his hands over his mouth and began to shout.

“Please, get yourselves into a single file line! Again, no talking, or Chris is going to lose his mind, and he won’t feed us! Do you want that on your conscience!?”

In the meantime, the intern who drove the van raced up the dock and hopped on board the yacht. 

_Obviously, I can’t go first… I don’t even know what I’m doing here. It’s a safe bet to stand in the middle._

Duncan made sure to secure a spot near the center of the line while everybody else scrambled around him. 

“Alright, send up the first one!” The intern on the yacht screamed. 

“Listen up!” The intern on the ground yelled. “When it’s your turn, get on the boat! Chef is the one driving, he’ll explain what to do! You! What’s your name?” He asked the first camper in line, who happened to be Beth. 

“Oh, hi! My name is Beth-”

“Beth! Get up there!” He ordered. “Please, we can’t fall behind schedule! Chris promised us McDonalds if we finished on time… so please don’t ruin this for us!” He begged. 

_This Chris guy sounds like a maniac… I’m supposed to work with him?_

Beth ran up the dock towards the yacht, tripped when she was halfway there, picked herself up, waved back to reassure everyone that she was unharmed (as if anyone gave a shit), and disappeared onto the yacht. Every few minutes, the yacht would return and pick up the next person. 

_Are we supposed to know what to do? Do they tell us? Maybe I should ask someone… but I don’t want to draw any attention to myself if they all know what’s going on and I don’t._

“Alright, you’re up next. Be ready,” the intern barked at him. He could already see the yacht fast approaching. 

_Fuck. I’m done for. This is it._

“Go!” The intern yelled.

“Ok.”

Duncan was in no hurry to humiliate himself on TV, but he also didn’t want to ruin the man’s chande at McDonald’s, so he jogged up the dock and hopped onto the yacht. The intern onboard pulled him to the edge of the deck. 

“Name?”

“Duncan.”

“Ah, hang on. Go talk to Chef,” he nodded towards a small compartment on board where Chef was driving the boat. 

“Oh. Alright.”

“Hurry up.”

Fighting against the wind whipping against the deck, Duncan held onto the railing and stood behind Chef, who faced the water. 

“Um, hello? Chef?”

“Yeah?” A gruff voice answered without turning around. 

“Hi, someone told me to come over here. I’m Duncan.”

“Oh, yeah. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, right?” He didn’t take his eyes off the water. 

“Nope.”

“We sent out instructions to everyone… I guess you didn’t get those. When we land, Chris is gonna introduce you to the cameras, alright? Just say a few words, go along with whatever he says, yeah? Meet him in the woods after the first challenge.”

“You’re not going?”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going in those woods after dark. No thank you. I’ll be in bed eating McDonalds. Now, get out there.”

“Alright. Um, thanks.”

He went back to the intern, who handed him a stereo, which he immediately had to put down. His right arm couldn’t take that much weight just yet. 

“What do I do with this?”

“Just stand with it. Ah, put a foot on it. Look tough. Alright, we’re almost there. Bye!” The intern scrambled out of sight. Duncan looked around for some sort of clue as to what he should be doing. The yacht slowed down as they approached an island in the middle of a lake, where a few of the campers were huddled on a dock. A man who looked to be in his twenties stood apart from them all. 

“Here we have our next competitor… bad boy Duncan!”

_I have no idea what to do. Am I supposed to get off the boat? They’re all standing over there… I guess I’ll get off. But what do I say to him? Who is this guy? Is this Chris? What if it isn’t? I can’t call him the wrong name, I’ll look right stunned, and they’ll probably vote me off. Fuck. What do I say? Wait, they wanted a bad boy, right? Ok, ok… I can do that. Sure. Let’s do it. Hell, my parents film me 24/7 anyways, this is no different._

“What’s going on,” Duncan appeared uninterested as he stepped off the yacht and onto the dock. 

“Welcome to Camp Wawakanka!” Chris (he guesses it was Chris) announced. 

“Eh, it’s not much to look at,” Duncan glanced around, “but I guess it’s better than sitting in a cell all day.”

“Right,” Chris looked him up and down. “I’ve been told I have to keep an eye on you. Don’t worry, I have your parole officer on speed dial.”

“Sure thing,” Duncan smiled. “I’m sure he’d love to talk to me,” he walked over to join the other contestants. 

“And our next contestant…”

_Amazing. I totally nailed that. But let’s see who else is here…_

He didn’t want to seem like a total weirdo by staring at the campers standing next to him, so he just focused on the new arrivals. It made the time go by faster. 

_Harold… annoying as hell… Katie and Sadie… girls who would bother me in school… Cody… dorky wannabe… Courtney… uptight cute girl… Justin… shit, he’s gorgeous… Izzy… quirky ‘crazy’ girl…_

“And those are our campers!” Chris announced. “Now, you can all grab your bags from the yacht and follow me down to the campfire!”

The interns must have loaded the suitcases into the yacht while Chris was finishing his introductions. The campers shuffled over and began to climb the deck, sifting through a pile of suitcases to find their bags. Most of them brought a few, but Duncan only had one suitcase. He checked to make sure his bag from the police was still inside, along with his sketchbook, eyeliner, and folder with his boarding passes, not that he’d need it again. Everything else in the suitcase had been packed by the police, so Duncan was convinced they’d forgotten something crucial. 

As everyone gathered their bags and began to follow Chris, a girl came up to Duncan’s left side and began to talk.

“Hi, Duncan, right? I’m Gwen.”

He glanced over to get a better look at her. 

_Oh, yep. We’d definitely be friends back home. It’s too perfect. I’m sure we listen to the same music and everything._

“Nice hair,” he smiled at her. 

“Thanks. Dyed it myself. Hey, we almost match!”

“Right, expect you went for ‘cool artsy goth,’ while I went for ‘traumatize my parents.’”

“That appears to be the case, huh?” She peered up at his hair. “Well, I’m sure they love the earrings. What happened to your arm?”

_She’s my favorite person here by far. Definitely the coolest._

“Pulled a muscle.”

“Oh? You didn’t beat up some guy in an alley?”

“Now, where’d you get that impression?”

“I don’t know, putting ‘bad boy’ in your introduction doesn’t fare too well for you.”

“I have to admit, I winced a bit.” 

The group stopped walking when they reached a campfire surrounded by logs acting as chairs. 

“Take a seat!” Chris announced.

“Don’t worry,” Gwen reassured him. “Chris referred to me as a ‘loner goth,’ so I think you’re good.” She sat down on a log, letting him take the seat next to her. 

“Listen up, campers! Here’s where we have our elimination ceremony! After every challenge, the losing team will vote on the person they want to send home, while the winning team will be safe from elimination that night. The last two people standing will compete in the finale, and the winner will receive one… hundred… thousand… dollars! Also, the outhouse over there is used as a confessional where we record you. It’s like a video diary. So don’t actually use it as a bathroom! Please! Now, here are your teams! First, we have the Screaming Gophers: Gwen, Trent, Heather, Cody, Lindsay, Beth, Katie, Owen, Leshawna, Justin, and Noah! And on the Killer Bass, we have Geoff, Bridgette, DJ, Tyler, Izzy, Courtney, Ezekiel, Duncan, Eva, and Harold! Now, each team will have their own cabin. You guys are all going to head over to your cabin and get to know your team members for a little while, and then you’re going to participate in your first challenge! After that, it’s your first voting ceremony! So… get over there!”

“Aw, different teams?” Gwen frowned. 

“Appears so,” Duncan sighed. “Well, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Of course. When my team kicks your ass.”

“Woah, woah. Don’t underestimate the… what are we?”

“Killer Bass?”

“See? Killer’s right in the name!”

“I’ll make sure to watch out,” she smiled. 

“Killer Bass, over here!” A voice called out. 

“Better see what that’s about,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Gwen.”

_Now, I don’t think I’d hook up with her. I think it’s one of those friends where we’d be really good friends, and if we hooked up we’d ruin it, you know? Come to think of it… should I hook up with anyone? Because I was thinking about it, but for some reason, I feel like I’m not supposed to. Like it would be wrong. But why?_

“My name is Courtney,” the voice continued, and as he walked closer, he found his teammates gathered around the uptight-but-cute girl from before. “Since I was a CIT, you know, Counselor-in-Training, I thought I should be in charge of rounding everyone up…”

_Aw, how cute. She thinks she actually has authority here. And look at her, she has a whole good-girl style going on._

“Are you listening?” She was staring at him.

“Hmm?”

“I said we were all going back to the cabins, alright?”

_Bad boy answer…_

“Sure, whatever. You always take charge like this?”

“Only when it’s necessary,” she blushed, then cleared her throat. “Now, let’s go.”

_See, she’s cute with the potential to be hot. And I’d hook up with her. I bet her parents would hate me, and she would probably hate herself afterwards, but I’d still do it. So why aren’t I going to go for it? It doesn’t feel right… I feel so guilty even thinking about it._

“Which cabin are we supposed to take?” Bridgette wondered. 

“That one,” Courtney decided, marching up the stairs, the others trailing behind her. She opened the door to reveal a large room that was completely falling apart. 

“What a dump,” one of the girls, Sadie, murmured with tears in her eyes. 

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” Duncan shrugged. 

“Girls can take that side?” Bridgette offered.

“Fine with me,” someone wearing a cowboy hat, Geoff, shrugged and threw his suitcase down on a bed. “But what are we supposed to do now?”

“We could do some team bonding?” Sadie hiccuped as she sat on her bed.

_Gross. No._

“I love it,” Brigette smiled. “Sit in a circle and all that?”

_Fuck. Fine._

“Sure, why not?” Duncan agreed, sitting on his bed. The others gathered around, most of them opting to sit on various beds, seeing as the floor was disgusting.

“I’ll start,” Courtney announced. “I’m Courtney,-”

“Hi, Courtney,” the rest of them echoed, much to her annoyance.

“Oh. Hi. I’m from Ontario. Should I do a fun fact? Hmm… I’m on the student council at my school. Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” Bridgette, on her left, waved her hand. “My name is Bridgette, I’m from California, and I love to surf.”

“Wait, you’re from California? Me too! Oh, I’m Geoff, by the way,” he informed the rest of the group. “I also love to surf.”

“No way, I thought I was the only one! Where in California?” Bridgette wanted to know. “I’m an hour west of Sacramento.”

“I’m closer to San Francisco- actually, maybe closer to San Jose.”

“Oh, that’s not too far, only a few hours- sorry! I guess we got carried away!” Bridgette noticed the group was annoyed by their chatter. “Who wants to go next?”

“I guess I mixed up the order…” Geoff noticed. “Sorry guys.”

“I’ll go!” Harold announced as he stood up. “My name is Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady V, and I’m from New Brunswick. I enjoy beatboxing and rapping. That’s all.” He sat down. 

_Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t be an asshole. Hold back. Oh God, he’s a rapper. Don’t say anything._

“Hi, I’m Sadie, and I’m from Ottawa,” the girl next to him smiled. “And my fun fact is… well, I guess the reason I’m crying is that my best friend in the whole world, Katie, is in that cabin right over there…” she began to choke back tears. “I’m sorry. That’s all. Move on to the next person.”

“You’re from San Jose, right?” Harold asked out of nowhere. 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe half an hour away?” Geoff answered. 

“Did you know ‘San Jose’ is actually Spanish for ‘Saint Joseph?’”

“Um, no. I didn’t. Really cool, man,” Geoff said, obviously trying to make Harold feel better. 

“I’ll go next,” a rough voice decided. “I’m Eva. I’m from Edmonton. I like sports. Next person?”

“Alright,” the person in question looked unsure if he should go. “Hi, I’m Devon Joseph, but you guys can call me DJ,” he smiled. “I’m from Ontario, and I love to cook.”

“Hey guys, I’m Tyler, I’m from BC, and I run track, but I guess I’m a sports guy in general, both watching and playing.”

“I’m Ezekiel, I’m from Saskatchewan, and I’m homeschooled.”

_Good luck._

“Hi! I’m Izzy! Hmm… Ok! I’m from New Brunswick, and I guess I like to do a lot of things! I like to blow stuff up, so that’s pretty cool!”

_Alright, I like her too._

He then realized he was the only one left. 

“Ah. Hey everyone. My name’s Duncan, I’m from Nova Scotia, and… 

_Rookie mistake, didn’t think of the fun fact ahead of time._

“...I love listening to music.”

_What a cop-out answer. Oh well, they can deal with it._

“Ah, Nova Scotia,” Harold mused. “Latin for ‘New Scotland.’”

“Yep.”

“Home to the last surviving group of Canadian Gaelic speakers in the country.”

“Sure is.”

“And… home to the Marlboro Murderer.”

_Fuck. God damn you, Harold._

“Woah, what’s that?” Geoff wanted to know. 

“You guys don’t hear about this stuff in America?” Izzy asked. “It’s crazy in the Maritimes!”

“He’s a serial killer in Nova Scotia,” Harold smiled like the entire thing was a ghost story to him and not a terrifying situation running an entire province into the ground. 

_I’d love to punch that smile off his face…_

“Really?” Bridgette asked Duncan, eyes wide with curiosity. 

“Yeah, it’s a whole crazy thing,” he feigned ignorance, casually covering the faded cigarette burns on his arm.

“Campers!” A voice boomed from outside. “Change into your bathing suits and meet at the cliff in twenty minutes for your first challenge!”

“Guess that’s our cue to split?” Geoff offered as the girls stood up and walked back to their sides. 

“See ya,” Bridgette smiled at him. 

_Great, so they’ll get together… But two major problems. One, I can’t swim. That’s bad, right? I’m sure he’ll ask us to swim. Two, did the police pack a bathing suit, and more importantly, will it cover my thighs? Because if not, then I’m not doing this. No way._

He unzipped his suitcase and found a few bathing suits, all a solid black. He picked the one he thought would fit the best. 

_Fuck, please let this be long enough._

He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him change. The scars on his thighs were fairly faded, but he couldn’t emotionally handle any questions at the moment. It was instances like these that he regretted putting them there in the first place, but he knew well enough that he couldn’t turn back time. 

Satisfied with the coverage of his swim trunks, he swapped out his shirt for a black t-shirt that he had to wear whenever he went swimming. He knew it looked weird, but he needed something to cover up his shoulder. His excuse of “pulling a muscle” went out the window if anybody saw a five-inch scar trailing across his chest. 

When the rest of his team was ready, they left the cabin and set out for the cliff. It was hard to miss, considering it was the tallest landmark on the island. Thankfully, nobody commented on the fact that Duncan was wearing a shirt, and the conversation moved past the Marlboro Murderer.

“So, do you know any Gaelic?” Harold bothered Duncan with more questions. 

“You know that barely anybody speaks it anymore, right? It’s not the 1800’s.”

“Around 2,000 people in Atlantic Canada. I’m aware it’s not that many, but Duncan sounds like a pretty traditional name, eh? What’s your last name?”

“Alasdair.”

_God, just stop bothering me…_

“Ah, the Gaelic form of Alexander-”

“Yes, Harold, it’s a very traditional name in Scotland. My mother was actually born and raised in Cape Breton, and despite the overwhelming odds, she does in fact speak Gaelic, and since she’s very big on tradition, she taught me and my brothers to speak it as well, but since there’s nobody around to practice with, we just used it to talk about people behind their backs. So sure, Harold, I’ll give this one to you. You were right.”

_Now, please leave. Go annoy someone else._

“Ah,” Harold seemed completely unbothered, “I had a feeling I was right about this one. You see, one of my hobbies is name etymology, and when I realized that your name followed the traditional spelling-”

“Oh my God- Geoff, what language do you take in school?”

“Me, bro? I take Spanish, but I totally suck. Basically everyone in Cali takes it.”

“Yup, me too!” Bridgette smiled. 

_Wow, you guys have so much in common! You should run off and get married!_

“I take French,” Courtney announced. “I already speak Spanish, so it’s not too bad. But it’s not as similar as people say it is. I actually really like it, though. I don’t know why everyone complains.”

“Yay, French buddies!” Sadie smiled. 

“Alright, campers!” Chris announced once both teams reached the top of the cliff. “Welcome to your first challenge! Since it’s your first day, it’s not too difficult! All you have to do is jump off of this cliff into the safe zone below! But, beware! If you don’t land in the safe zone, you’ll enter shark infested water! The team who has the most people jump, wins! Ready… go!”

Nobody moved. Everybody assumed he was joking, but Chris looked at them all expectantly. 

_I… literally can’t swim. Like, physically, I don’t know what to do with my body. Do I just… flail? Do I ask someone to teach me? There’s cameras everywhere, and I don’t have a lot of time. I heard if you just let yourself go limp, you float back to the top, right?_

“Well!” Bridgette announced. “I’ll go first!”

“Yay, Bridgette!” Geoff cheered her on. The other team quickly began to scramble for a plan. Bridgette stepped up to the edge of the cliff, turned around to wave, and jumped off. She must have survived, because Geoff decided to jump next. 

“Here we gooo!” He took off with a running dive after making sure she was out of the safe zone. 

_I mean… I may as well go. No amount of waiting will make this better. If I die, I die._

“I’ll go,” Duncan quickly spoke before he could change his mind. Stepping up to the edge of the cliff, he looked into the water below. Mistake. 

_Ah, fuck. Fuck! Just jump. Go. Go!_

He jumped, praying he hit the safe zone. Sealing his eyes, his body hit the water, splashing into the cold abyss. 

_So… cold… and dark. Why is it so dark? I can’t see, why is it so fucking dark down here? I can’t breathe, I have to get out of here, what do I do, someone get me out of here…_

A familiar burning blistered across his shoulder. Lungs screaming for air. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move...

_Hey…_

_Breathe…_

_Jeez, Rabbit, calm down, everything’s gonna be alright… just take a breath for me… shhh…_

“Dude, are you alright?” Geoff grabbed his arm and yanked him up to the surface. 

“What?” Duncan looked around frantically. They were no longer in the safe zone. Geoff must have moved him. 

“Are you ok? I thought you were drowning, and then you were staring at nothing-”

“I’m fine,” Duncan said quickly. “Sorry, the water was just really cold.”

“I feel you. I’m actually a lifeguard back home. It’s shallow enough to stand over here.”

“My lucky day, huh? Thanks, man.” Duncan stood up and followed Geoff out of the water.

“Hey, no problem.”

_Oh, thank fuck._

From the shore, they watched the rest of their team jump. Sadie’s friend Katie convinced Chris to let her switch places with Izzy, which placed her on the Screaming Gophers. Everyone jumped except for Courtney and DJ. Therefore, when it came time to vote, they seemed like the obvious choices. 

_I feel bad voting for DJ, he just seems too nice… so I think Courtney. It only makes sense._

Then, right before voting, Ezekiel conveniently revealed that he thought women were inferior, which pretty much sealed his fate. 

“Alright, campers,” Chris revealed after the campers had a chance to vote, “the following contestants are safe, and will receive a marshmallow: Bridgette, Tyler, Geoff, Duncan, Eva, DJ, Katie, Sadie, Harold, and… Courtney! Ezekiel, you will be walking the Dock of Shame! The rest of you are free to go back to your cabins! This has been… Total… Drama… Island! Alright,” he turned back to the campers, “this has been our first challenge. Breakfast is tomorrow morning at 6 AM, and we’ll have our second challenge. Now, go get some dinner!”

_I wish… but I have something to do first._

“I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Duncan called out to his team members. He tried to remember the way back to the cabins without getting lost in the woods. Thankfully, it was only a short walk. Opening the cabin door, he quickly located his suitcase, unzipped it, and pulled out the small black bag given to him by the police. Grabbing the earbuds, he pressed the ‘on’ button and put them in his ear. 

“Um… hello?” He called out, unsure if anyone was listening. 

“Jesus Christ, took you long enough!” Officer MacNeil’s voice boomed in his ear. Duncan quickly dialed down the volume. 

“Sorry.”

“Chris, are you there?” Officer MacNeil asked.

“What do you want?” Chris complained. 

“Go with Duncan and take some pictures like we rehearsed!”

“Ugh… fine. Duncan… meet me outside your cabin.”

“Ok.” Duncan took the small camera also located in the bag and stuffed it back in his suitcase. He’d look through the rest of the contents later. 

“I’m signing off,” Chris warned. 

“No, don’t-”

A beeping sound signified that Chris was gone. Duncan followed suit, removing the earbuds and sliding them in his pocket. He walked over to the door and opened it to find that Chris was already there, parked in a golf cart. 

“You coming?”

“Can I drive?”

“Just get in the goddamn cart.”

Duncan did as he was told and sat in the passenger seat, turning on the camera. 

“Start recording,” Chris ordered. “You’re supposed to get the perimeter of the island. Why? Fuck if I know. Because it’s the police, and they like to waste my goddamn time. I guess they can access the videos on that camera remotely.”

“They don’t tell you anything either?”

“Nope. You think I want to be here right now?” Chris parked his golf cart on the edge of the woods. “I want to be inside, eating McDonalds. But I’m here with a random teenager in the woods. Not in a sexual way, of course.”

“Is there going to be a lot of swimming on this show?”

“Why, you’re trying to cheat?” Chris narrowed his eyes at him.

“I don’t even remember signing up for this goddamn thing,” Duncan sighed. 

“Oh, right. Coma?”

“Yup. Five months of memories. Gone. And I have a nasty scar.”

“Can I see? Keep filming. I’m not doing this again. There’s probably bears out here.”

“Fuck it, why not?” Duncan lifted up his shirt (which was kind of weird, but whatever) so Chris could see the rows of bandages across his chest.

“Dude. Fuck that.”

“I know. Anyways, I’m asking because I don’t know how to swim,” Duncan looked through the camera as they walked around the woods. 

“What? Why did you sign up?”

“I don’t know, remember? Probably to get out of juvie?”

“And you were stabbed?”

“Yes.”

“Tough break,” Chris shook his head. “Though to be honest, I don’t really care about any of this murderer shit. The cops just strong armed my production team into helping. Can we just hurry this up?”

“Sure.”

They finished filming in silence, making sure to capture anything the police would find noteworthy. Hidden trails, suspicious trees, secret hideouts. To be fair, it was kind of a rushed job. It was a big island. 

“I’ll drop you off at the mess hall. Eat some dinner. Get some sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, you said get some sleep.”

“Do it. That’s all. I’ve said too much.”

“Uh, alright, Chris.”

_Weird guy. But I kind of like him._

His team was still eating when he caught up to them. 

“Oh, Duncan, where were you?” Courtney asked.

“Just something I had to do really quick,” Duncan brushed it off. “I’ll eat quickly, don’t worry.” The food itself wasn’t too bad. He wasn’t picky. As he ate, the rest of his team continued on whatever they were talking about. 

_Get some sleep… weird. Well, alright, Chris. I’ll do it. Sure. I’m tired enough to sleep through an entire week._


	5. Hypnology

A/N Hooray, a bitch finished writing this two days ahead of schedule. Since I’m really pushing to finish this before Summer ends, whenever I finish earlier than planned, I’m just gonna post it. This chapter is a personal favorite. TW for blood! I hope you guys enjoy it, and I’ll have the next chapter out on Saturday the latest. 

Chapter Five

Hypnology: Study of Sleep; Study of Hypnosis

After eating dinner with the rest of his team, Duncan went directly to bed. The rest of the Killer Bass stayed up talking about some shit he couldn’t care less about, like this was some sort of fun summer camp where they could swap secrets in their bunks, but Duncan wanted no part of it. Besides, he had a weird relationship with sleep. Considering his normal bedtime was three in the morning (not by choice, he was always tired, he just couldn’t fall asleep), he usually spent several hours each night staring at the wall. If his insomnia decided to leave him alone for a night, he would be stupid to pass up the opportunity to go to sleep before ten. As he drifted off to the sounds of Harold rambling about various brands of keyboards, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on any interesting conversations. 

_And Chris told me to get enough sleep… weird._

The next morning, his entire team was woken up by a blaring alarm sounding from outside. 

“Wha-?” Bridgette rolled off her bunk and onto the rotten hardwood floor. “Where… ew, gross!” She realized where she was and launched herself back onto her bed, clinging to the sheets. 

“Are you alright?” Geoff mumbled, face still buried in his pillow. 

_He probably doesn’t realize it’s Bridgette, or he’d be scooping her off the ground in an effort to prove himself._

“These floors have never been cleaned…” Bridgette sighed. “But, it’s cool. I’ll get over it.”

“What time is it?” Courtney sat up in her bed and yawned. A few streams of sunlight creeping through the slits in the wooden ceiling allowed Duncan to watch her brush a few strands of frizzy hair from her face. 

“You guys are soft,” Eva complained. Somehow, she was already dressed. 

“Eva, you got dressed really quickly,” DJ smiled. “Impressive.”

“I was already awake for my morning run.”

“Yeah, I’m with Eva on this one,” Tyler agreed as he tried to put on a shoe, forcing him to hop around on one foot. “I go for runs, like, every morning. In fact, if Chris didn’t sound that alarm, I would’ve gotten up and ran a few kilometers. You know, nothing too crazy, just a warm up.”

“But you’re still in your pajamas,” Sadie tilted her head.

“So? A man can’t go for a run in his pajamas? A true athlete is prepared to compete in any type of wardrobe-”

“Killer Bass!” Chris screamed from outside the cabin door. “Let’s go!”

“One minute, Chris!” Bridgette tried to pacify their host as her teammates scrambled to get ready. For his part, Duncan made sure he had his earbuds in his ears, just in case he had to suffer through any more instructions from the police. 

“Alright, campers!” Chris announced when everyone had left their cabins. “For anybody who’s wondering, it’s currently five in the morning!”

“Why?” Heather groaned as she rubbed her eyes. 

“That’s how time works,” Lindsay informed her. 

“I know that, Lindsay,” Heather gave her the most forced smile Duncan had ever seen. 

“Today, you will all be completing a 20K! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

_Shit… no way do I have the stamina for that. No wonder Chris told me I needed the extra sleep. Whatever. This stuff is all mental, right? I’m sure I can power through. I just gotta believe in myself or some shit like that._

“Will we be eating beforehand?” Owen raised a hand.

“No!” Chris smiled. “I don’t want you guys throwing up all over the island.”

“Aww.”

“Chris,” Heather announced, “I think I speak for all of us when I say that _some_ of my teammates,” she glared over at Noah and Owen, “won’t be able to finish the run. Why should we be punished for their faults?”

“Heather?”

“Yes?”

“That’s not my problem.”

“But Chris-”

“Ready set go!”

“Chris-”

“Go!”

“Alright, Killer Bass, let’s gooo!” Tyler cheered as he took off into the woods. 

“He’s going the wrong way…” Courtney stared after him while Heather gathered up the Gophers and led them onto the trail. “Tyler, come back! You’re going the wrong way!”

_Fucking hell, Tyler…_

“Tyler, you idiot!” Eva screamed after him. “Get back here!”

_Oh my God, who the fuck cares?_

“Hey, Eva, it’s alright,” Bridgette tried to calm her down. “It’s not a huge deal.”

“Guys, I’m back!” Tyler announced as he ran towards the rest of his team. “I went the wrong way!”

“We know, Tyler,” Courtney glared at him. “Let’s get moving!”

“Alright, good idea, let’s gooo! Killer Bass for the winnnn!” He took off on the trail, the rest of his team following. 

_We’re going too fast, I’ll never be able to keep up… Fuck, nobody can keep this up._

Tyler led the pack, with Eva right next to him. Even though she was significantly shorter than him, she managed to keep up with no problem. Geoff ran with Bridgette, then DJ, Duncan ended up next to Courtney, Katie ran with Sadie, and Harold brought up the end. Duncan wanted to turn around and look at the others, but he didn’t want to make it obvious, and he feared that any unnecessary movement would cause him to collapse. 

_Seriously, is nobody else struggling to breathe? Are all of these people Olympic track stars?_

God bless him, DJ turned around to check on the rest of the group and realized that everybody behind him could barely keep up. 

“Hey, Tyler, maybe we should slow down a bit. After all, we need to save our energy for the entire race.” 

“Hmm?” Tyler glanced behind him. “Sorry, have I been going too fast? Let’s slow down.”

“Woah, are you alright?” Bridgette stared at him. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved her off. Upon closer inspection, Tyler was absolutely drenched in sweat, and despite only running for five minutes, he looked like he had already finished the entire course. “Actually, maybe we can stop for a minute?”

“Thank God,” Harold murmured from the back. 

“We’re never going to finish at this pace,” Eva rolled her eyes. She wasn’t even breathing heavily. “Let’s just split up.”

“No way,” Tyler shook his head. “No man left behind. Or woman. It’s unsportsmanlike.” 

“Then we’re going to lose,” she insisted.

“How is Chris judging it?” Courtney asked. “Because we’re not losing. No way. Does he go by how many people cross the finish line? Or which team has all of their members finish first?”

“I don’t know,” Katie looked at Sadie like she magically had the answer. 

“Me neither,” her friend answered.

“Look,” Duncan got his team’s attention, “Heather had a point. They have Owen and Noah, and neither of them are finishing a 20K any time soon. Chris can’t expect us all to finish at the same time, right? I think our best bet is to get as many people across the finish line as we can, even if we run at different speeds.”

“Duncan’s right,” DJ agreed. “There’s no point if everybody’s going to collapse halfway through. How about we all go at our own pace?”

“Fine,” Courtney accepted his answer. “But we all have to promise to try our best, alright? Nobody is allowed to quit!”

“Let’s stop wasting time and run!” Eva insisted. “Come on, let’s get moving!”

“Alright, alright,” Geoff tried to calm her down. “Good luck, everyone!”

Eva took off through the woods, leaving the rest of her team to stand there. 

“Just… let her go,” Bridgette sighed. “It’s not worth it.” She started to jog. “Are you coming?” She asked Geoff, who broke into a grin. 

“Sure,” he jogged next to her. 

“Oh, can I come too?” Tyler began to run.

“Yeah, sure, man,” Geoff agreed, obviously annoyed. 

_Dude, read the room._

“I’ll hang back with you guys?” DJ asked as Duncan and Courtney began to run. 

“Sure,” Duncan agreed. Katie and Sadie started a comfortable pace behind them, while Harold trailed behind the pair. 

_Just keep going. Focus on what’s in front of you. Look, Courtney’s doing fine, and she’s shorter than you. You can’t let her show you up. No way. One foot. Other foot. One foot. Other foot. See? That’s not so bad-_

“Duncan.”

_Who said that?_

It didn’t sound like Courtney… he turned around, but Katie and Sadie were talking to each other, and Harold was falling further behind. 

“Duncan.”

“Did you say something?” He asked Courtney.

“What?” She looked at him like she was crazy. 

“It’s me, Officer Walsh, can you hear me?”

“Oh, fuck, sorry, I forgot you were there,” Duncan responded. 

“What?” Courtney stared at him. “Who are you talking to?”

“Nobody.”

“Duncan, can you hear me? Chris tells me you’re running a 20K through the island? Listen, keep your eyes open, alright? You need to be watching for anything suspicious, and give us your location every once in a while. Clear your throat if you understand?”

Duncan cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could, partially in an attempt to gross Walsh out. 

“Duncan, are you alright?” Courtney stepped away like he had some sort of disease. 

“Yep. All good.”

“I’m not slowing down,” she warned him. 

“No way. You thought I was slowing down?” 

“Just checking.”

“Do they teach you how to run a 20K when you become a CIT?”

“No,” she frowned. “Do they let you run 20Ks in prison?” 

_Well, she doesn’t think much of me… Maybe I can change her mind._

“Ooh, how cruel. Fine, I’ll leave you alone. I’m sure you don’t want to waste your breath.”

It was probably for the better that Duncan didn’t speak. After five kilometers, he seriously couldn’t breathe. Courtney was still by his side, Katie and Sadie were nowhere to be found, and Harold disappeared a few kilometers ago. On the bright side, they passed Owen, Noah, Cody, and Beth, so at least both teams were in disarray. 

_But seriously, I’m gonna pass out. Or vomit. Both at the same time?_

“You’re not a runner?” Courtney glanced over at the sound of him gasping for air. 

“How could… you tell?”

“Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. We’re about to pass six kilometers.”

“How did you know… we’re about to pass… six kilometers?” Duncan asked, loudly enough for Walsh to hear. 

“There’s a sign for each kilometer? You haven’t seen them?”

“Oh.”

She shook her head like she expected this level of idiocy from him. 

“Just focus on your breathing.”

_It’s such a cliche… bad boy with goody-goody? Too perfect. And she’s hot. But I disgust her. But she’s so hot...No, Duncan. You’ve already decided you aren’t going to go for it. Stop it. Don’t even think about it. You have enough shit to work through, don’t drag her into it. Focus on running. Right, left, right, left…Jesus, how do people run marathons for fun? This is torture!_

To distract himself, he tried to look for any suspicious landmarks in the woods, but all of the trees looked the same. 

_What am I supposed to be looking for? I have to focus, I can’t just examine any rock that looks suspicious-_

“Oh my God!” Courtney came to a sudden halt. 

“What! What is it?” Duncan looked around in panic. Was it him? The Marlboro Murderer in the flesh?

‘Are you alright?” Walsh barked through the earbuds. 

“Sorry, it’s nothing, we have to keep moving…” Courtney looked away. 

“What is it?” Duncan insisted. 

“Just… these flowers,” she gestured to a row of pink flowers sitting along the side of the trail. 

“Really? Flowers? Jesus, you right fucking scared me. What, you want some?”

“Rosa Rugosa… They’re from Japan, but sometimes people like to plant them in North America… it’s fine, my pockets aren’t deep enough. We have to keep moving.”

“I’ll hold them for you.”

“What? Stop, it’s fine-”

“Just pick the flowers so we can go. It’s no big deal, I know you want them.”

“Alright, fine,” she conceded, picking a few flowers and handing them over. Duncan shoved them in his pocket as the two of them kept running. 

The last few kilometers felt like pure hell. Everything hurt. He tried not to move his shoulder at the expense of putting too much weight on his left foot, and the transition between lying in bed for months to running for almost four hours was too much for his body to handle. 

“And here we have Duncan and Courtney, both on the Killer Bass! Congrats, guys!” Chris announced when they reached the end of the course. “We have breakfast when you guys are ready.”

_Oh… I’m not even hungry. I forgot about breakfast completely._

Duncan laid down in the grass, giving himself a few minutes to gather himself. 

“We finished the race,” he mumbled, hopefully loud enough for Walsh to hear, but not loud enough for anybody else, “I didn’t find anything except for a bunch of flowers… Rosa something? I’m exhausted… Sweaty… And I’m taking out these damn earbuds.”

“That’s fine, you’re with everyone else now, correct?”

“Yep. Bye.” The earbuds were covered in sweat as he took them out. He slid them in his pocket and curled in on himself, taking deep breaths. 

_I fucking hate this show. Second challenge, and I want to go home. Fuck this. What the fuck._

“Duncan?” Courtney whispered. 

“Yeah?” She appeared to be in better shape than he was, but considering his comatose adventure, he was giving himself a pass. 

“I just want to say… good job finishing the race and not giving up. Even when you were tired,” she nodded her head like she was negotiating a business deal rather than talking to a teenage boy. 

“Oh,” he mumbled from his spot on the floor. “Thanks, Courtney. Do you want your flowers? You probably have time to put them in your suitcase…”

“Sure…” she looked around, probably to make sure nobody was watching. 

_She doesn’t even want to be seen with me…_

“Here,” he quickly reached his hand into his pocket and handed over a pile of pink petals. 

“Thank you,” she gathered them close to her chest. “I’ll be back,” she left to put them in her suitcase. 

“Woah, look who finally showed up,” Gwen stood over him the moment Courtney left. 

“How are you already here?”

“What, you don’t think I could be a track star?” She offered him a hand, which he accepted. “Did you eat?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’ll puke.”

“Do it on Heather, if you don’t mind?” 

“Look at Gwen, already making enemies,” he smiled as she led him over to the breakfast table, where Trent and Noah were already sitting. 

“I know, right? Aren’t I despicable?” She stabbed a waffle covered in whipped cream and berries. Duncan decided he may as well force himself to eat. He didn’t want to faint later on. 

“No, you’re not!” Trent insisted. 

_Oh, he obviously likes her. I can do something with this._

“What, these are your friends?” Duncan gestured as he bit into some toast. 

“Hmm, appears so. Trent-”

“Oh, we met in Toronto,” Duncan cut her off. “Had a great time lost in the airport, didn’t we, Trent?”

“Heh, I guess so…”

_Set and serve. Too perfect._

“Wait,” Duncan smiled, “do you guys have, like, a thing going on?”

“With Trent?” Gwen snorted before Trent could say anything. “Nah, we’re just friends.”

_And, his soul has left his body._

“I was gonna say, you went for the guitar playing hipster?”

“That’s what I said,” Noah spoke the first words in the entire conversation. “Vomit. No offense, Trent, it’s just cliche. And nobody likes cliche.”

Gwen hid her smile behind a glob of whipped cream. 

“Whatever, Noah, relationship expert,” she flicked a blueberry at him.

“I wouldn’t call myself an _expert_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “Your words, not mine.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, because we’re not dating,” Trent tried to play off the entire situation like his heart wasn’t just ripped out of his chest. 

“Listen up, campers!” Chris clapped his hands and captured everybody’s attention. “Now that you’ve all finished the race and had time to eat, it’s time for today’s challenge!”

“Wait, what?” Leshawna asked him. “Didn’t we just have our challenge?”

“Yeah, who won the race?” Heather called out.

“That wasn’t a race. I never said it was a race! That was only a warm-up!”

This announcement was met with shouts of anger from the campers. 

“Are you serious!”  
“Chris, I swear to God you better be joking!”  
“Dude, we’re exhausted!”

“Everybody, calm down! Now, here’s your challenge! We’ll be having an Awake-A-Thon! All you have to do is not fall asleep. The last person awake will have their team win immunity, while the losing team has to vote somebody off. Sound good? Good! Are you ready? The Awake-A-Thon starts… now!”

_So THAT’S why he told me I needed to get enough sleep, so I could stay up longer. But why is he trying to help me?_

“Excuse me?” A snide voice shook him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Heather standing next to him. 

“Yeah?”

“We have a challenge to win, so…maybe go back to your team?”

_I see why Gwen hates her. Whatever._

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he stood up. “Bye, guys.”

“See ya,” Gwen smiled. 

“Bye, man,” Trent nodded, while Noah gave a faint wave. The Killer Bass members were already gathered in a circle. 

“I can’t believe Chris did all that, and it wasn’t even a race,” Eva was fuming. 

Bridgette and Courtney shared a look that Duncan immediately picked up on. 

_I wonder what that’s about… I’ll have to ask._

“What’s our strategy?” Bridgette moved on from Eva and tried to get everybody to focus. 

“We need to keep each other awake,” Courtney decided. “The other team might try something,” she glanced over at them. 

“Only one of us needs to stay awake, right?” Tyler asked. “Anybody want to volunteer?”

_I can do this… Wait, I can actually do this. I never sleep anyways. Can I do this?_

“Hang on,” Geoff caught on to something. “It almost doesn’t make sense to stay up late.”

“What?” Courtney glared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Dude, hear me out. Let’s say you stay up for three days. If you do that, you’re, like, fucked up for a week, right? And then you start messing up challenges, and you get eliminated, you get me?”

“I see what you’re saying!” Tyler agreed. “So, like, we need an agreement, alright? If you win the challenge for our team, you’re safe from the next elimination, yeah?”

“I like it!” Katie smiled. “It’s like a bonus prize!”

“Fine,” Courtney agreed. “If it will motivate you people to stay up.”

“But we have to shake on it!” Geoff insisted. “Or a hands-in! On three!”

_I can win this one. If I can’t help during the physical challenges, I need this immunity bonus or they’ll vote me off._

Duncan thought it was cringey, but everybody put their hands in the middle of the circle. 

“Killer Bass on three! One, two, three!”

“Killer Bass!” Duncan’s team members yelled with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

“Alright, let’s do this!” Tyler cheered. 

By ‘this,’ he meant ‘sit quietly in a circle on the beach.’ There wasn’t much else to do. Tyler suggested a game of volleyball, but Courtney thought that would use up too much energy, and personally, Duncan didn’t want to risk anything else with his shoulder. 

“Let’s play Truth or Dare!” Sadie clapped her hands. 

_No way. Not with you people._

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever!” Katie suggested. 

“Ooh, I like that idea even better!” Sadie squealed. 

“I’ll play,” Bridgette blushed. 

“Sure,” Harold agreed. 

_Please, someone else has to think this is stupid, right?_

Thankfully, Courtney looked bored, if not downright nervous. 

_Probably because she hasn’t done anything._

“This is some stupid, right? You know we don’t have to play if you don’t want to-”

“It’s fine,” she shook it off. “If everyone else wants to play, I’ll do it.”

“Yay!” Katie beamed. “Alright, everybody put up ten fingers, and if you’ve done the thing, then you put down a finger.”

“Wait, do you have to say something you didn’t do?” DJ asked. 

“Yes, you say something you didn’t do, but that everyone else did, and the goal is to be the last person standing. I’ll go first. Never have I ever… been drunk!” 

_Kill me._

Katie broke into a fit of giggles, which prompted Sadie to start laughing as well. Duncan put down a finger, alongside Tyler, Geoff, and Bridgette. 

_Oh God, I’m an alcoholic compared to these people. I’m going to lose this game so quickly._

“One time, my cousin got trashed and ate a glue stick,” Tyler recounted. 

“Why?” Sadie asked. 

“I don’t know, I thought it would taste good- fuck.”

“You fucked up, man,” Geoff pat his shoulder. “You were almost in the clear.”

“Can we just move on?” Tyler buried his face in his hands. 

“I’ll go next!” Sadie declared. “Never have I ever… been high!”

_What a weak question. She basically copied the other one!_

Once again, Tyler, Geoff, Bridgette, and Duncan put down a finger. 

“Oh, wait, me too,” Harold put a finger down as well. 

“Sorry, but no fucking way,” Geoff shook his head. 

“You think I would lie about my marijuana expertise?”

“Can we please move on?” Duncan begged. 

_Oh God I’m cringing so much. It’s just too embarrassing._

“I’ll go,” Courtney gave Duncan a smug smile. “Never have I ever… been arrested.”

“Alright, fine,” Duncan put down another finger. “Clearly, I’m not going to win this round.”

“One time, this girl in my school sold weed under the bleachers, and she got arrested,” Bridgette explained. “So you’re not alone.”

“Wow, we must be soulmates.”

“You sold weed too?” She seemed thrilled to have guessed correctly.

“Nope. And nobody ask,” Duncan warned, “because I’m not telling you guys what I did. And I’m not telling any stories from juvie.”

_Because I don’t remember a goddamn minute of it._

“There was a guy in my school who used to smear his shit all over the bathroom walls,” Geoff recounted. 

“Ew, what?” Katie recoiled. “Why?”

“I dunno, he just did it.”

“My school had one of those guys,” Harold agreed. “We’d have to shut down the third floor bathroom, like, once a week. It was a real travesty.”

“We had a Milk Guy,” DJ explained. “He’d climb to the top of the stairs, then pour milk on everybody below him.”

“Just for fun?” Harold couldn’t grasp it. 

“I guess so. He liked the chaos.”

“Yep, that’s right crazy,” Duncan shook his head. “I don’t get the milk part of it.”

“Maybe it was a fetish?” Geoff suggested. 

“Oh my God, no,” Courtney covered her ears. “Absolutely not.”

“Ohh, I get it,” Bridgette nodded, “because the milk looks like jizz?”

“The milk looks like jizz,” Geoff nodded.

This type of intellectual conversation sustained the Killer Bass for several hours. By nightfall, nobody had fallen asleep yet. There were a few instances where Duncan was convinced that Eva had fallen asleep because she rarely spoke, but each time she proved to be awake. Chris’ voice crackled over the loudspeaker.

“Alright, campers! You are twelve hours into the challenge, and only one camper has fallen asleep: Owen, of the Screaming Gophers! To the rest of you: good luck!”

“Is anybody feeling tired yet?” Courtney glanced around the circle in suspicion. 

“I don’t think so…” Katie panicked. “I’ve been tired before, and this isn’t it.”

“Isn’t it true that if you mention yawning, then people start to yawn?” Tyler wondered aloud. Immediately, Bridgette started to yawn, setting off a chain reaction around the circle. 

“Tyler! Why’d you say that?” Courtney asked him right before she started yawning. 

“I didn’t know it would work,” he insisted. 

“Yeah, well- Bridgette? Oh my God, she’s asleep.” 

Sure enough, Bridgette was slumped over in the sand. 

“And the Killer Bass have had their first casualty!” Chris announced. “Bridgette is out!”

“Bridgette!” Courtney shrieked, waking her up.

“Wha-?”

“How did you fall asleep?”

“Erm… still on California time?”

“They’re behind us! You should be less tired!”

“Sorry, guys,” she looked sheepish. 

“It’s fine,” Geoff reassured her. “We’re still in the competition. We just have to keep each other awake. It’s probably around midnight if it’s been twelve hours. We can still do this, guys.”

_Am I tired? Nah, this is nothing. I’m just chilling. I haven’t hit the zone yet. The ‘stare at the wall’ zone. I don’t know what’ll happen then, but for now… chilling. But these guys definitely won’t last._

Sure enough, Eva was the next to go, claiming she had a ‘precise internal clock that kept her in peak physical condition’ Katie and Sadie fell asleep around the same time, and Tyler had some sort of nightmare soon after, causing him to wake up screaming. Courtney started to pace, which drove him crazy, DJ tried to create an elaborate plan where he’d tie himself to a tree, and Harold talked Geoff’s ear off about God knows what, which would probably put him to sleep pretty quickly if nobody stopped him. Duncan just sat there, thinking about nothing in particular, feeling the hours go by. 

“Campers, congratulations! The challenge has reached the twenty-four hour mark! Help yourself to breakfast outside the mess hall, but the campers who are still competing can’t sit with the campers who have been disqualified!”

“Aww,” Geoff looked visibly upset. 

“Let’s go,” Duncan stared at the sand, voice monotone. He wasn’t hungry, but he couldn’t stay on that beach. It was freezing out there. 

The remaining competitors on the Killer Bass, Duncan, Courtney, Geoff, Harold, and DJ, trudged through the thick piles of sand towards the mess hall, none of them speaking. Upon arrival, Chris stood there with a big smile plastered across his face. 

“Here they are- our five competitors on the Killer Bass! Please, sit down with your counterparts on the other team!” 

There were two tables. At one sat a group of happy teenagers. All of them were smiling, eating breakfast, and sharing stories from last night. At the other table sat a group of miserable, sleep-deprived campers with dark bags under their eyes. 

_Guess which table is for me?_

Out of the Screaming Gophers, only Heather, Gwen, Trent, Noah, and Cody remained awake. 

“Hey guys,” Geoff greeted them.

“I want to die,” Noah responded. 

“Alright.”

That was all anybody said at breakfast. Duncan could barely stomach a piece of toast, and he had no idea how much longer he would last. 

_I can’t believe five of them managed to stay awake. It’s been twenty four hours, surely they can’t last that much longer._

“Let’s all hang out tonight,” Geoff announced when he stood up after breakfast. 

“No way,” Heather shook her head. 

“Yes,” Gwen agreed. “Absolutely.”

“Sure,” Noah stared at nothing. 

“Ok,” Geoff nodded slowly as he began to walk away. “Bye.”

“Geoff, where ya going?” Duncan called out to him.

“I don’t know.”

“You can’t just go anywheres you want- look, you can barely walk straight!”

“Maybe we stick with our teams for today, and we’ll catch up with you guys tonight?” Harold offered as DJ ran over to prevent Geoff from walking into a tree. 

“Fine,” Gwen whispered.

“I should go help, he’s right fucked up- Geoff, that’s another tree! What are ya doin’!” He got up to help DJ. 

“Bye, guys,” Courtney spoke in a trance, gripping onto Harold for support, who in turn gripped onto the table. He stumbled a few steps with Courtney in tow and finally landed on Duncan’s right arm. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Harold, other arm or I’ll biff your nose, you stunned fuck,” Duncan hissed at him. 

“Ah, sorry,” Harold took note of the bandages wrapped around Duncan's shoulder and switched to his other arm. 

“Alright, buddy, off we go, you too Courtney,” Duncan began to march forward, half-carrying Harold and Courtney, while DJ gripped Geoff’s shoulders and steered him away from any obstacles. 

“Where are we going?” DJ asked. 

“Don’t know,” Duncan called back. “I’m just walking.”

“They’re all watching us. The other campers,” Courtney glanced behind her shoulder. 

“Fuck ‘em!” Geoff declared. “Fuck you guys! But not you, Bridgette! I love-”

“Dude, shut the fuck up!” Duncan begged him. “That’s not the move!”

“I’m gonna sit down,” Geoff decided. “Right here.” He collapsed onto a patch of grass.

“Geoff, you know I believe in you, man,” DJ prefaced, “but I don’t think you’re gonna make it until tonight.”

“Shh! That’s ok! Because now I give you something to do! Know why? Because I’m _trashed!”_

“No, dude,” Duncan shook his head, “you’re just sleep-deprived.”

“And I’m _trashed!_ I brought a flask full of vodka with me… shh!”

_Bastard didn’t share with the rest of us?_

“Ah, fuck, how much did you have?”

“Six! I had… six shots! But now, you guys have something to do today! So you don’t fall asleep! I am the sacrificial lamb. Like David and Goliath.”

“Sorry, when did you have time to take six shots?” Courtney looked at him in curiosity. 

“I’m fast like a cheetah! Who wants to play a game?”

“No way,” she shook her head. “I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

“Let’s play the Compliment Game?” DJ offered. “We go around in a circle and compliment each other.”

“Fine. I’ll play,” Courtney approved. 

“I’ll play as well,” Harold nodded.

“I’m going first!” Geoff announced. “Ok. Courtney. You have a competitive spirit. Harold. You know a lot of facts. DJ. You’re kind to everyone. Duncan. You’re kind of an asshole, but you can also be funny. I have to yak. Give me a minute.”

Without getting up from his spot, he turned around and threw up all over the grass. 

“Do you have to do that here?” Courtney wrinkled her nose at him. 

“It tastes so bad,” he whimpered. 

“Are you crying?” Harold asked. 

“No,” Geoff sniffled. He wiped off his mouth with his shirt and turned back around. “Guys, do you think Bridgette actually likes me?”

“Can we not have this conversation two feet away from the vomit puddle?” Courtney asked, trying not to look at it. The rest of the group began to inch away, while Geoff began to pace with his unsteady gait. 

“It’s just… I really like her… but now I don’t know if she likes me back… and I kind of think she hates me… but maybe she doesn’t?”

“I’m sure she likes you,” DJ tried to reassure him. 

“Duncan,” Geoff put him on the spot. “You tell it like it is. Do you think she likes me?”

_Oh, dude, I don’t give a shit. I’m so tired._

“I mean, it’s hard to tell because you’ve only known her for a few days. But I don’t see what you have to lose. I can see it working out.”

“Alright,” Geoff threw himself on the ground. “I guess you’re right. I’ll go for it. Ok.”

“Hey, Courtney, what was all that with Eva earlier?” Duncan asked before he forgot. 

“Oh, don’t get me started. She lost her mind in the girls' side of the cabin. Screaming, throwing stuff around. It freaked all of us out.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Duncan mused as he stared at Geoff on the ground. “Wait, did he pass out?”

Geoff didn’t speak for several moments. 

“Geoff?” DJ called his name gently. 

“He’s asleep. Unbelievable,” Courtney rolled her eyes. 

“And, Geoff is out! Killer Bass is down to four contestants!” Chris announced through the loudspeaker. 

_And that’s a hell of a hangover._

Miraculously, the four of them made it to that night. On the other team, all five contestants were still awake, probably because Heather threatened to kill them if anybody fell asleep. 

“Hey, guys,” DJ greeted the Gophers as they met on the beach as they agreed the previous morning. “How are you holding up?”

_We must all look like shit. I went from sleeping for three weeks straight to staying awake for three days straight. I’m sure my doctors would be thrilled._

Everybody settled into the sand, breaking up into smaller cliques. Somehow, Duncan ended up sitting next to Courtney. 

“Hey, you’re pretty lucky,” he smiled at her.

“What? Why?”

“You got out of giving me a compliment earlier. I didn’t think you would’ve been able to do it.”

“Seriously?”

“What? Don’t act too surprised. You clearly don’t think too highly of me.”

“You’re so over-dramatic. I would have been able to think of _something.”_

“Oh yeah?” He turned to look at her. “Fine. Go for it. Prove me wrong. Say something nice about me, I’ll say something nice about you. Eye for an eye.”

“This is ridiculous… but alright. Umm… something nice about you. Well, I don’t really know you, but I think you’re someone who sticks to their beliefs, even if I wouldn’t agree with them. And you don’t give up on things that are important to you. And you have a fun accent.”

“A fun accent? I’m touched.”

“Hey, I said other things!” She turned to frown at him.

_I hope she doesn’t think I’m flirting with her… am I coming on too strong? I don’t want to lead her on. I haven’t done anything overly-romantic…_

“I know, I know, you did your part.”

“Your turn,” she gestured expectantly.

“Sure. I think you’re determined. And you know who you are, and what you want. And you would never give up your goals for someone else’s sake. Happy?”

Courtney looked over the water and up at the stars. 

“Yes,” she decided. “I’ll be honest, I was half-expecting you to give some sort of joke-answer.”

“Nah, I’m too tired for that. I do have to go piss, though.”

“And, there it is. Where are you going? Bathroom’s that way.”

“I’ll just go find a bush.”

“Guys are gross,” she complained. 

“Yep!” He grinned. 

He walked past Gwen and Trent, who were deep in conversation, and Heather, Harold, and DJ, who were probably trying to keep each other awake. Duncan had the common courtesy not to piss near anyone, so he took a few steps into the forest, where nobody would see him. Right when he found a decent looking bush, a strange noise stopped him from going any further. The sound of a person- footsteps? Was that a voice?

_Oh my God, it’s him. Fuck, this is it. And he almost caught me with my dick out! What do I do? Shit, the earbuds. They have my location, I just have to click the button three times._

Slowly, he reached his hand into his pocket, straining to hear any type of noise. After a few moments, the sound continued. A rustling noise, and… two voices?

_Two serial killers? What are the odds! Hang on, I know one of those voices…_

Duncan took a few more steps forward, glanced behind a bush, and made direct eye contact with Noah. 

As he was making out with Cody. 

_Ah._

Noah shoved the poor kid off of him, but to his credit, he didn’t run away. Instead, they entered a three-way staring contest that Duncan couldn’t figure out how to escape. 

_Do I just leave? Say nothing? Make a joke over it? No, Cody looks like he’s about to kill himself. Show some sign of solidarity? I’m not gonna out myself over this. See, this is why we need a hand signal or something. I think I'll just go. Make a fast exit._

“So… this never happened?” Duncan offered.

“What never happened?” Noah stared with a knowing confusion. 

“Absolutely nothing,” Duncan walked away. “Glad to see you’re still awake!”

_Sorry. Can’t help myself._

He made his way back to the beach, stopping to piss in a different bush, where Gwen and Trent were drawing pictures in the sand. 

“Courtney was eliminated,” Gwen informed him. “And DJ.”

“Jeez, I was only gone for a few minutes.”

“And it’s officially 2 in the morning. So, I’m going to the bathroom. You lucky fucks, pissing in bushes,” she glared at both of them. “Guys are gross, I swear.”

“See ya!” Duncan called after her. 

_And… now I’m stuck here with Trent. Great._

“Ah… two in the morning,” Trent mused.

“Yep.”

“That’s rough. This is the longest I’ve ever stayed up.”

“It might be the longest I’ve ever stayed up. Probably.”

“Duncan, do you think I’ll ever find true love?”

_Oh, please not this. See, didn’t I call it? I knew he’d do some shit like this._

“I don’t know, man. Probably.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s just, deep down, I genuinely think I’m unloveable. Like, I don’t think I have any redeeming traits. Or maybe I just need to sleep. Haha.”

_You hit 2 AM, especially after an all-nighter, and people start to fall apart. I shouldn’t be surprised, he probably doesn’t know what he’s saying. I guess other people aren’t used to staying up this much._

“I don’t know, man.”

“So, like, are you and Gwen gonna hook up? Should I expect that?”

“I don’t think so. Probably not.”

“Cool,” he nodded. “Not that it matters. She doesn’t even like me, obviously. Probably hates me.”

“What, you’re talking about earlier? We were just messing around, alright? Chill out. And I don’t advise that you repeat what you just said to her.”

“Nah, I would never. Oh, hey, Gwen! You’re back!”

_Thank fuck._

“Hey guys!” She sat back down on the sand. 

“I’m gonna check in on Harold,” Duncan offered. “I guess since he’s my only team member left.”

_Any excuse to leave this conversation._

As he stood up to leave, Duncan watched as a black, blurry shape darted across the sand and flew over the water, disappearing into the horizon. 

“What the fuck, what was that?”

“What was what?” Gwen tried to see what he was looking at. 

“That thing in the water?”

“You probably hallucinated it,” Trent was lying on his back in the sand. 

“What do you mean?”

“You know. When you go without sleep for a really long time, you start to hallucinate. See things out of the corner of your eye. Hear voices. Believe stuff that isn’t true.”

“Shut up,” Gwen nudged him with her foot. “Don’t scare us like that.”

“I’m serious!”

“Great,” Duncan dusted the sand off of his jeans. “You guys have fun in the sand, and I’ll keep my eyes out for shadow people.”

_Brain injury combined with sleep deprivation… maybe the two will cancel each other out?_

“And, Cody and Noah have both been eliminated!” Chris announced. 

_That figures. Who’s left? Gwen, Trent, and Heather, which just leaves me with Harold. Wonderful._

“Hey, how are you guys holding up?” Duncan sat down between Harold and Heather. 

“Oh, thank God,” Heather stood up. “You talk to him. I can’t deal with him anymore.”

“What did you do?” Duncan asked him. 

“Nothing!” Harold put up his hands in defense. 

“He’s been lecturing me about anime for the past two hours.”

“Dude,” Duncan shook his head. 

“Wait, aren't you Japanese?”

“First of all, I'm Chinese, and if I were from Japan, I wouldn't want to hear about your weird cultural obsessions. It's creepy!” she stormed off. 

“Sayonara, Heather-San,” Harold bowed his head. 

“Stop doing that!” She called after him. 

“Christ, Harold, dial it down a bit, don’t make her uncomfortable.”

_I have to make him fall asleep. In order to earn immunity, I have to win the challenge for my team. I can’t do that if Harold’s still awake. But how do I make him sleep? Punch him? That would knock him out… Drug him? How would I get away with that? I could drown him. The lake isn’t that far off… yeah, that’s it. He’s pretty skinny, I’d just throw him in the water and walk away. He’d be too tired to swim, and by the time someone rescues him, he’ll be unconscious! Perfect. Here we go-_

“And, Harold is out! Duncan is the only remaining member of the Killer Bass!”

Sure enough, Harold was lying face down in the sand.

_Oh. That works too._

“And Trent is out as well!”

“Seriously, Trent!” Gwen yelled from the other side of the beach. “In the middle of a conversation?”

“Wha-? Sorry Gwen!”

_That leaves me, Gwen, and Heather. That can’t be too bad. I just have to stay awake, preferably without losing my mind. Awake for 46 hours, surely they can’t last much longer…_

“Unbelievable…” Gwen shook her head, walking back to meet Duncan. “Now I have to hang out with Heather. Where’d she go?”

“Near the water, I think.”

“Right, her grand strategy.”

“What is it?” Duncan asked, his interest piqued.

“Shit,” Gwen realized. “I wasn’t supposed to say…”

“She’s been ducking her head in the water to stay awake,” he realized. “It’s cold enough.” He glanced at the lake. Under the night sky, the water was pitch black. “I’ll try it. You coming?”

“No way. She made us all try it earlier. It was freezing.”

“But it worked,” he stood up from the sand. “She’s still awake. Wish me luck?”

“Knock yourself out.”

He would do anything to keep himself awake, even if that meant tolerating a few seconds of cold water. As he approached the shore, far enough from Gwen that he would need to scream for her to hear him, he tried to figure out what to do. 

_Do I just dip my toes in there? Dunk my head somehow?_

Deciding he didn’t want a repeat of the cliff incident, he settled on taking off his shoes and standing ankle-deep in the water. 

_Fuck, that’s some cold…_

He submerged his hands for good measure. When he took them out of the lake, they were dripping with a thick, black substance.

“Wait, what the fuck?” He whispered, bringing his hands closer to his face. The clouds were covering the moon just enough so that there wasn’t enough light to see. “Is this… oil?” Duncan plunged his hands back into the lake so he could clean off the mystery substance, but when he took them off, the blackness started to drip down his arms. “Jesus Christ, this place is a dump,” he muttered as he rubbed his hands on his shirt. 

While he tried to clean himself off, the clouds shifted, letting the moonlight through and illuminating the lake. Finally, Duncan could see the black liquid coating his upper body. 

_Not black… like a dark red? But what… Blood. Fuck. Whose is it?_

He frantically scanned the water for any of the other contestants, but there was no one else there. 

_Where’s it all coming from?_

As he searched for the source, Duncan felt the liquid start to drip down his chest. 

_But I never let that part touch the water-_

He looked down at his chest, where a thick, warm torrent of blood gushed from his right shoulder, down his entire body, and into the water, where it pooled around his ankles and dispersed across the lake. Gingerly, he lifted his left hand to his shoulder and pressed a few fingers against it, staring as a few stray drops of blood dripped off of his fingers. 

_Uhhh… I’m gonna die now. I don’t…_

And then he threw up. Or, he would have, but there was almost nothing in his stomach besides a few pieces of dry toast, so instead he started dry heaving. 

“Dude, you good?” Gwen yelled from the beach. “Jeez, hang on,” she started to jog towards him. 

_Fuck, now Gwen gets to watch me die._

“Don’t…” he choked between heaving.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. He just stared at her wide-eyed. 

_She seems so calm…_

“Are you alright?” Gwen repeated. 

He looked down at his clothes expecting a river of blood, but his clothes were completely dry, no trace of red in sight. 

“Um… apparently.”

“Did you go in the water?”

“Let’s maybe just sit down,” Duncan took his shoes and socks in his hands and walked back to the sand, not listening for an answer. He was still waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. 

“Oh. Sure.”

He spent the rest of the night with his knees tucked into his chest, staring straight ahead. 

And of course, he didn’t sleep. 

“Campers! Welcome to day three of the Awake-A-Thon!” Chris announced. “Still in the competition, we have Gwen and Heather on the Screaming Gophers, and Duncan on the Killer Bass! Come to the mess hall for some breakfast!”

“Dude,” Duncan sniffed, “I haven’t seen Heather in, like, nine hours.”

“I haven’t moved in nine hours.”

“I think it’s physically impossible for me to fall asleep right now. I’m past being tired. Is that possible?”

Gwen stretched out her legs and stood up, bones cracking throughout her body. “Did you see shapes and stuff out of the corner of your eyes? Running around?”

“Yes. I hate it,” Duncan forced himself to stand up. 

“Maybe you should get some sleep, then,” she mused as they walked to breakfast. 

“No way.”

“There they are!” Chris smiled. Heather was already sitting down. “Oh, wow. You guys aren’t looking too good.”

“Thanks, Chris,” Duncan smiled out of sheer sarcasm as he grabbed a few pieces of toast and kept walking towards the Killer Bass’ cabin. 

“Not staying for breakfast?”

“Nope.”

“Yay, Duncan!” Sadie cheered from the table of eliminated contestants, followed by a few cheers from Tyler and Geoff. 

“Thanks, guys,” Duncan waved before entering the cabin and slamming the door behind him. He slid against the wall and sat down, staring at the dirty floor while he chewed his toast. 

_I can’t do this. I’m losing my mind. Fuck, I’m so tired._

He shivered while rubbing his arms up and down, holding his toast in his mouth. 

_What am I going to do all day?_

Looking over at his bunk, he stood up and decided to look through his suitcase. 

_Right, I brought my sketchbook… that’ll eat up some time._

He also grabbed the lighter he bought at the airport in Halifax. It calmed his nerves, and right now, he would take any help he could get. 

Setting out for the woods, he walked past the other contestants eating breakfast. He knew he’d be more likely to fall asleep if he was alone, but he couldn’t handle being around anybody else. Choosing a decent spot under a tree, he put his sketchbook on his lap and drew with one hand while he flicked his lighter with the other. Immediately, he ran into the classic problem of not knowing what to draw. After months of sketching random hospital objects, he couldn’t do another still life, so he settled for a nice pair of eyes. Nobody’s in particular. 

_It’s completely possible this looks like shit right now. I really can’t tell._

He added a few details to the irises, moving out and adding strands of dark hair. When he finished that small section of his subject's face, he stopped. He was confident in what he was doing up until that point, but he couldn’t figure out what the rest of the face should look like. 

_Weird, I don’t think it’s based on a real person… I should be able to add whatever I want._

A faint squeaking noise caused him to look up from his drawing. The source of the noise, a small brown rabbit, stared at him with beady black eyes. 

“What do you want?”

No answer, of course. Duncan kept flicking his lighter, expecting the rabbit to run away, but he simply tilted his head. 

“Well, fuck off, then.”

The rabbit took a few steps backwards, then returned to his original spot. 

“Come with me,” he seemed to speak. 

“Alright,” Duncan tucked his sketchbook under his arm, put his lighter in his pocket, and stood up to follow his new friend. 

The rabbit had an easier time navigating the forest than Duncan, who had to duck under branches and step over rocks. He didn’t know if the rabbit had a clear direction in mind, or if he just wanted to go for a stroll, because Duncan had no idea where they were. 

“Hey, you mind slowing down?” Duncan asked. “I haven’t slept in three days, you know.”

The rabbit turned around, paused for a moment, and began to run faster. 

“Hey, fuck you, man,” Duncan tried his best to catch up. “Where are you taking me, anyways? Dude, slow down!” 

After what seemed like an endless amount of chasing, the rabbit broke through the trees and stopped in the middle of a hiking trail.

“You didn’t have to run that fast,” Duncan glared as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m supposed to stay awake. You’re not helping.”

The rabbit ignored Duncan’s complaining and started to nibble at a few plants. 

“What are you doing?” Duncan took a few steps closer. The rabbit jumped back from the plants to reveal a line of flowers. 

“Hey, those are the flowers Courtney likes. We’re on the 20K trail? Wait…” he pondered as the rabbit continued to devour them, “that means we’re at least ten kilometers from camp? Oh, fuck, it’s gonna take forever to walk back there. And stop eating those! Now what do you want?” The rabbit hopped over to Duncan and dropped something at his feet. “What’s this?” He picked up the item and examined it. “Just an old cigarette… It’s practically burnt out. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Duncan, there you are!”

Chris was walking down the trail. 

“Hey, Chris.”

“Jesus fuck, where were you?”

“He brought me here,” Duncan gestured to the rabbit. 

“Who? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The rabbit.”

“What rabbit? There’s nothing there!”

“He must have run off… But he gave me this,” Duncan held out his palms. “Wait, shit, where did I put it-”

“I’ll stop you right there. Nobody gave you anything. Know how I know? We have you on camera walking in circles in the woods for hours. Talking to nobody.”

“I was only gone for a few minutes.”

“You were gone for six hours.”

“But did I fall asleep?”

“No. Heather did, though. Forget that, are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Obviously you’re not, but I asked, so legally, it’s on you now. Also, put on your earbuds. Some doctor wants to talk to you. And walk back to camp before you run off a cliff or something.”

_Great, who do I have to talk with now?_

“Em, hello? Duncan? It’s me, Dr. Cabot, I was wondering if we could speak for a moment?”

_Oh, God bless you, Dr. Cabot. Right when I need you._

“Sure.”

“I have been informed that you have not slept for three days? I have to advise against this as a medical professional. I’m sure you’re aware of the negative impacts staying up this long will have on your brain, especially considering your condition.”

“I understand, Dr. Cabot, but I’m going to win immunity.”

“I’m sorry, immunity from what?”

“Elimination.”

“What is that?”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait-”

“Love you.”

Duncan took out the earbuds and put them back in his pocket. 

“Who was that?” Chris pried. 

“My radiologist. He’s not pleased.”

“And you love him.”

“Yes. But it will never happen.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Later that night, Duncan found himself back on the beach with Gwen feeling like he was about to keel over. Every part of him wanted to fall asleep, but he forced himself to keep going. By 3AM, or 70 straight hours of staying awake, he took to pacing across the sands, just so his body would keep moving. 

Finally, like the voice of God himself descending from Heaven, it happened. 

“And… Gwen is out! Duncan, you won the challenge for the Killer Bass!”

_Wait. I might be hallucinating._

“Really?” He called out.

“Yep! That’s what I just said.”

“So I can go to bed? Because I already won?”

“Yes, Jesus… I already said you won!”

_Fuck this. I’m done._

He made a beeline for the cabin. When he opened the door, everyone inside was losing their shit. 

“We won!” Katie shrieked as if she did anything at all to help. 

“Great job, man,” Geoff clapped him on the back. 

Duncan didn’t acknowledge any of them. He collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, unaffected by anything happening around him. 

When Duncan opened his eyes a full day later, it was time for his next challenge. For a few minutes, he had no idea where he was. He would have no problem sleeping for another day. 

“Dude, you look like shit,” Tyler noted as the team walked through the woods down to the gymnasium where Chris had told them to meet. 

“I feel like shit,” he dragged his feet through the dirt. 

“Don’t worry,” Geoff clapped his left shoulder. “You’re safe from elimination. Right, guys?”

“For sure!” Sadie cheered. 

“A deal’s a deal,” Courtney conceded. “Besides, if he gets voted off, then all of us lose our credibility for the rest of the show.”

Duncan could barely pay attention as the campers stood in the middle of a gym. Chris said something about dodgeball, which was a definite no-go from him. 

“And the first team to knock out all of the other team’s players is the winner! Are you ready? And… go!”

_I can barely stand up right now._

“Just get out on purpose,” Tyler offered. “Don’t even bother.”

“He’d be useless with that arm anyways,” Eva commented. 

_Well, I’m voting her off next._

He didn’t have to worry about the game, because somebody hit him immediately. He took the opportunity to lie down on the bench, drifting in and out of sleep. 

“Who did the Gophers vote off?” He mumbled to Bridgette when she was eliminated. 

“Owen. He was the first to fall asleep.”

“Hmm.”

“And it looks like we’ll have to vote someone off tonight. We’re not doing too hot.”

She was right. The Killer Bass were absolutely destroyed. 

“And the Screaming Gophers win! Killer Bass, get ready to vote!”

The Killer Bass had some time beforehand to meet back at the cabin before elimination. Duncan didn’t particularly care who they voted for since he was safe no matter what. If he had to choose, he’d vote for Katie, Sadie, or Eva, but Geoff would be a stronger competitor later on.

“Hey, have any of you guys seen my MP3 player?” Eva asked as she looked under her pillow.

“No, sorry,” Bridgette answered as she spoke to Geoff.

“I haven’t,” Courtney added. 

“Alright, well, whoever has it, just give it back.”

“I don’t have it,” Tyler shrugged. “Are you sure you’ve checked everywhere?”

“Yes,” she glared at him. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course I’ve checked everywhere.”

“Alright.”

“What about you?” She turned on Duncan. 

“Me?”

“Come on, you’re the person most-likely to do it. You’re the only one of us who’s been arrested.”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t steal your MP3 player.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Duncan didn’t take it,” Courtney defended him, much to his shock. “When would he have done it?”

“He was in the cabins earlier,” she insisted. “And I don’t appreciate how you lost the dodgeball challenge for us.”

“Calm down, Eva,” Bridgette pleaded with her. “He won the Awake-A-Thon. None of us could do that. You can’t expect him to play dodgeball after staying awake for that long.”

“Let’s not fight,” DJ tried to keep the peace. “Come on-”

“Look, just give me back my MP3 player, and it’s fine,” Eva decided. 

“Nobody has your MP3 player!” Sadie pleaded with her. “Honest!”

“Yeah? ‘Honest!’ Clearly, you guys aren’t being honest. Fine, you’re gonna fuck with my stuff, and I’ll fuck with your stuff!” She grabbed the closest suitcase and threw it out the window, sending glass flying everywhere. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Geoff ducked behind a bed for cover. “Eva, what are you doing-”

“There! Now we're all even!” She threw another suitcase through a different window. 

“Eva, I had some really expensive comic books in there, and if you damaged those, we’re going to have a major issue,” Harold glared at her. 

“I don’t care, Harold!” She tossed another suitcase.

A loud knock at the door interrupted her rampage. DJ, who was closest to the entrance, twisted the knob.

“Hello?”

“Oh! Hi, DJ!” Heather smiled from the doorstep. “I just wanted to tell you guys I found this MP3 player outside? Does it belong to anyone?”

The entire team turned to face Eva, who froze with a suitcase in her hands. 

“Oh. Um… my bad. I must have dropped it by mistake. Heh-heh”

Needless to say, Eva was the one to go home that night. 

On the way back from the elimination ceremony, the team opened the cabin door to find cardboard boxes on each of their beds. 

“What’s this?” Duncan asked as he examined the box. 

“Fan mail!” Katie shrieked. “Chris told us about it when you were asleep.”

“Oh, no shit,” he opened the box to see an array of letters. 

_Christ, I don’t care. Who wants to read random stuff from strangers? I’ll pass._

He sifted through the envelopes not really paying attention, and was about to close the box entirely when he noticed something. A white envelope with the word “Rabbit” scrawled across the front in red ink caught his eye. 

_Wait, what’s this?_

Making sure nobody saw the strange name on the envelope, he opened it and took out the letter, reading it to himself.

> Hey Rabbit,  
>  Did you think you would get away with doing this to me? After everything I’ve done for you? You must be right fucking delusional if you think I’m going to let you go. You know I thought you were dead? Did you think I would never figure it out? You have no idea how humiliating it was to turn on that TV and see you there perfectly unharmed. Honestly, I should have expected this kind of shit from you. I don’t even know why I’m surprised, you stunned fucking bastard whore. I can’t even begin to explain how beyond pissed I am at your bullshit stunt. Well, I guess you’ll have an idea when I get down there and cut your throat in front of all your friends, because the second I have the opportunity, I’m coming over there and fucking strangling you. So help me God, I’ll stab you right through your other shoulder and pierce your goddamn heart. You wanna be a bitch and call the police? Fine. See if I give a fuck.

_…Dude. I just can’t catch a break, huh?_


	6. Ectogenesis

A/N- Hey everyone! Not a long message this time. Next chapter will be up next Saturday the latest. Enjoy!

Chapter Six

Ectogenesis: Variation in response to outside conditions. 

While the other campers gushed over their letters, Duncan debated his next move. 

_Do I really have to deal with this now? Can’t I just go to bed?_

“What does yours say?” Katie looked over his shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Duncan said a little too quickly as he shoved the letter and envelope in his pocket. “Just stuff.”

“Look at this one,” Geoff murmured to Tyler as he discreetly showed him a letter. 

“Dude, nice,” Tyler chuckled, “I wish some chick would send me something like that.”

“But I don’t even know if she’s hot…”

“Maybe a fifty year old man sent it to you,” Harold mused. “And he’s pretending to be a teenage girl.”

“Come on, Harold, don’t ruin it for me,” Geoff glared at him. “Let me have this one thing.”

“Nice, a letter from my Mama!” DJ smiled in delight. 

Normally, Duncan would make some sort of sarcastic remark, but he was preoccupied with the time bomb in his pocket. 

“Your mom writes you letters, DJ?” Sadie asked him. “That’s so cute!”

“Yeah, she’s great,” DJ rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. 

_Wonderful, his mom sends him letters, and I have some guy threatening to murder me. How is that fair?_

“I’ll have to finish looking at these tomorrow,” Bridgette ran her hands along the envelopes in the cardboard box on her bed. “We don’t have a challenge, right?”

“Nope,” Geoff grinned. “Day off!”

“Since when?” Duncan looked around at his teammates. 

“We never have challenges two days in a row,” Courtney explained.

“What? Did everyone else know this?”

“Chris told us when you were sleeping,” she sat down on her bed, opening another envelope. 

“Sorry dude, we should have told you,” Geoff apologized. 

“Nah, it’s cool,” Duncan shrugged it off. 

_Alright, I can either deal with this now, or leave it for tomorrow. If this letter just got here, whoever sent it must have done it a few days ago, probably when the first episode aired. I’m sure it’ll be fine to wait another night… I’ll just get up early tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be all caught up on sleep by then. And I should start carrying my lighter around with me. For safety reasons._

“We probably shouldn’t read these,” Courtney decided as she put down the envelope in her hands. 

“Hmm? Why not?” Geoff half-listened as he smiled at something in a letter.

“Harold could be right. What if there’s, like, weird old men trying to take advantage of us? And you know, there’s been a lot of studies about teenagers' self-esteem and how it’s affected by outside influences- oh, don’t look at me like that,” she noticed Geoff rolling his eyes at her. “Fine, do what you want.” She slid her cardboard box of envelopes under her bed and rested her head on her pillow. “But don’t say I never warned you.”

Duncan noted that besides the letter from his mom, DJ wasn’t reading any of the others. 

“My mama warned me to not let the attention go to my head,” he explained. “Besides, Courtney’s right. It’s kind of creepy.”

“Thanks, DJ,” she smiled. 

“I just don’t want to read random stranger’s opinions of me,” Duncan slid his box aside. 

“I think you guys are seriously over-estimating how many people watch this show,” Tyler dismissed their concerns. “I only have, like, ten letters.”

“What?” Bridgette looked at her box. “I have at least twenty.”

“Weird,” Courtney sifted through her letters. “I have, like, thirty.”

“Aw, what?” Tyler looked disappointed. “How’s that possible?”

“I have thirty as well,” Harold announced. 

“Bullshit,” Tyler marched over to Harold’s box to see for himself. “How?”

“Nerds stick together,” Duncan explained as he stretched out on his bed. “Harold, you carved out a niche for yourself. Congrats.”

“How many do you have?” Tyler demanded to know. 

“Erm,” Duncan glanced in his box, “like, twenty-something.”

“Unbelievable!”

“Bro, it’s because he has a thing,” Geoff explained. “Like, he has the whole punk thing going for him. And Harold has the nerd thing. Courtney has the goody-goody thing. So all of those guys are sending them letters.”

“But what’s my thing?”

“You have the jock thing?”

“Really?”

“For sure, man.”

“Alright,” Tyler seemed to calm down for a bit. “But why aren’t the other jocks sending me stuff?”

“Tyler, it’s simple,” Geoff pat his shoulder. “No jock would ever watch this show.”

“Oh,” Tyler mulled over this response. “I guess you’re right.” Satisfied with Geoff’s explanation, he lied down on his bed. “Sorry for doubting your fame, Harold. Wait, is anyone else freezing?”

“Eva destroyed all our windows?” Courtney reminded him. 

“Oh, right. Can we talk about that for a second?”

“I was wondering when someone was gonna bring that up!” Sadie gasped from her bed. “Like, what was she on?”

Duncan took the opportunity to ignore his teammates and create a plan for tomorrow. 

_I really don’t want to deal with the cops… Maybe I can just talk to Chris? He’ll be much more cool about it. But what would he even do? And where do I find him? No way around it, I’ll have to tell the police. And they’ll probably turn it into some huge deal._

The next morning, he ate breakfast with his team. Even though the Awake-A-Thon was a complete nightmare, at least the food was decent. Apparently, Chef’s usual breakfast wasn’t up to that standard. Not that Duncan minded. He wasn’t picky. 

“Who are you making eyes at?” Geoff elbowed Tyler. 

“What?” Tyler blushed. “Dude, it’s nothing. I’m not staring at anyone.”

“It’s Lindsay, isn’t it?” Geoff grinned. 

“Ooh,” Katie shrieked. “You have a thing for Lindsay?”

“I totally see it!” Sadie announced. 

“You better not,” Courtney crossed her arms. “You can’t just date someone from the other team. It’s a liability.”

“Don’t worry. I would never jeopardize this team,” Tyler affirmed. “No way. Winning comes first.”

“I’ll catch you guys later,” Duncan picked up his plate to put on the counter. 

“Where are you going?” Courtney asked. 

“I just have to do something real quick,” he vaguely explained. “Tyler, good luck.”

“Oh, thanks, man.”

Duncan stopped in the bathroom before he spoke to the police. Glancing around to make sure nobody else was in there, he took his eyeliner from his pocket and added on a bit more around his lower lids, then made sure to tighten the bandages around his shoulder. Even though he slept for at least thirty-five hours to make up for the Awake-A-Thon, he still had dark bags under his eyes that he couldn’t figure out how to get rid of. 

_Well, here goes nothing…_

He swapped the eyeliner for the earbuds and clicked them on. 

“Hello?” A gruff voice on the other line asked him. Even though Duncan was expecting an answer, he was still surprised.

_Fuck, it’s Officer MacNeil. Damn, I was hoping he wouldn’t be there…_

“Ah, hey,” Duncan paced across the floor before realizing that a public space wasn’t the best place to have this conversation. 

“Duncan? What’s going on?”

“You know, nothing much. The usual,” Duncan left the bathroom and looked around the corner. When he didn’t see anyone, he picked a random direction and started to walk through the trees. 

“So why are you calling me?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” he tried to avoid the conversation. “You know… we were in the cabin last night, opening up this fan mail…” he started laughing. 

_Why am I laughing? Stop laughing! Damnit, this is exactly what Dr. Walterson was talking about!_

“Duncan,” he could tell MacNeil was pissed, “you better not be wasting my time right now.”

“I’m not. I swear. I got this letter, I thought you might want to hear it, I have it with me right now,” he ducked under a stray branch. “Let me just make sure there’s no one here…I think I’m alone. I’m pretty deep in the woods, unless there’s someone hiding behind a tree or something,” he took the letter from his pocket and unfolded it, spreading the creases against a rock so it would stop folding in on itself. 

“Are you reading the letter or not?”

“Oh. Like, aloud to you?” Duncan glanced at the first few lines and realized that he suddenly didn’t want to recite the letter out loud. 

“Yeah, what else?”

“I mean, it’s a little intense-”

“Just do it. I don't have all day.”

“Yeah, fine. Sure. So… the first part. It’s right weird, I mean, I don’t understand any of this,” he said in an attempt to distance himself from the situation as much as possible. 

“Just read the damn thing.”

“Right, right. It starts with ‘Hey Rabbit.’ Which is weird. And then, uh,” he dropped his voice, “it says, ‘did you think you could get away with-’”

“I can’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just really embarrassing if you read it out loud. Kind of cringey. Maybe I can take a picture?” Duncan jogged towards the cabin, where the camera given to him by the police was buried in his suitcase. 

“Fine. Hurry up,” MacNeil ordered. “We don’t have all day.”

_What else are you doing all day? You can’t wait three minutes?_

Irritated, Duncan slowed down and took his time on the way back. 

_God, I’m so dumb. Why’d I tell him anything? Of course he’d be an asshole about it. Next time, I’m just going to Chris. Or even Chef. I trust him to fight off a serial killer more than the police. They aren’t even here! They’re off in a hotel somewhere while I’m stuck here on Murder Island._

He flung open the cabin door and found it was mostly empty, save for Tyler and Lindsay making out in a corner. 

“Duncan!” Tyler shoved Lindsay into a wall. “What’s going-”

“I don’t give a shit,” Duncan grabbed the bag from the police and left the cabin. “Have fun!” He slammed the cabin door shut behind him. 

“Are you there?” He whispered as he tried to position the camera without shaking his hands. 

“Yes, you have the camera?”

“Yep, I’m taking the picture now… tell me if it’s too blurry. Wait, can you see it right away?”

“That’s how it works.”

“Here, then,” Duncan took a picture. “That should be clear.”

“Alright,” he could hear a few keys clicking on the other line. “Let’s see here… Ok… I see… I’m gonna need Officer Walsh to read this. I’ll talk to you later. We can discuss around… five?”

“What does it mean?”

_Seriously? He still won’t tell me anything?_

“I said I’d tell you later, didn’t I?”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Later. Bye.”

“Officer MacNeil? Are you there?”

No answer.

_Damnit… What a waste of time. Not doing that again._

He put the camera back in its case and folded up the letter. Opening the cabin door again, he walked past Tyler and Lindsay, who didn’t acknowledge him this time. When he stepped outside, he realized he had no idea what to do with the rest of his day. Breakfast was long over, so teammates were scattered throughout the Island. Picking a random direction, he started to walk near the shore, hoping he’d run into someone. On the off chance that somebody was coming to dismember him, he should probably avoid being alone. 

“What are you doing?”

“What?” Shaking himself out of his trance, he realized Courtney was standing on the path, blocking his way. Rather than her usual business-casual outfit, she wore sweatpants, sneakers, and a tank top. 

“Where’d you go earlier?” She repeated earlier. 

“Why do you care?” He didn’t want to explain everything to her. 

“Forget it,” she started to jog past him.

“Woah, woah,” he stopped her. “Where are you going?”

“Jogging. Why do you care?”

“Fair enough. No wonder you finished that 20K.”

“Are you done?” She glanced down the trail, obviously annoyed he was interrupting her run.

“Don’t let me stand in your way,” he put up his hands and dramatically stepped off of the trail and allowed her to pass him. 

“Such a gentleman,” rolling her eyes, she started to jog, leaving him alone again. 

“Duncan,” a voice whispered in his ears. “It’s me. Officer Walsh.”

_Fuck, I forgot to take out the earbuds. It’s just one mistake after another, isn’t it?_

“What now?” He kept walking, keeping an eye out this time for any passerbys. “Did you read the letter?”

“What letter?”

_Why am I not surprised?_

“I gave it to Officer MacNeil… What did you want to talk about?”

“That girl… Courtney. I’m going to be very blunt with you, alright?”

“Sure.” He could already tell where this was going. 

“Have you ever considered… pursuing something with her?” She tried to phrase the idea as delicately as possible. 

“No,” Dunca shut her down. Realizing the conversation would get really uncomfortable, he ducked back into the woods, sitting on a rock. 

“Why not? She seems very… nice. And… “ he heard her whispering to another voice, “what do I say? Really? Alright. Um,” her voice was back at full volume, “she’s very… lively. And pretty.”

“Pretty?” Duncan repeated. 

“Oh, sure,” she tried to convince him. 

“Rate her.”

“Excuse me?”

“On a scale of one to ten, what would you give her?” He took the opportunity to make her as uncomfortable as possible. 

“Oh. Well, I don’t really know, you see,” she floundered for a response. “I wouldn’t-”

“Ah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya, Officer,” Duncan saved her from answering. “So what, you want me to hook up with this girl? Why? I’ve thought about it, by the way, but what’s your thinking?”

“It’s not so much _our_ thinking. It’s the audience.”

“Hmm?”

“The people watching the show. They want you guys to get together.”

_Of course. It’s so weird to think about… random people in their houses are watching us on TV? And they want two random teenagers to fuck? Yeah, that’s not right creepy._

“Remember,” she kept talking, “we need you to stay in the game as long as possible. That means you can’t get voted off, and if you’re in a relationship, you have the combined strength of two people.”

“Wait, you don’t think I can win on my own?”

“Well… no. You don’t have a personality conducive to getting along well with others. You tend to mock people, you’re sarcastic, you push people away-”

“Alright, alright, enough with the character assasination. So you want me to date Courtney so I can stay in the competition?”

“Correct.”

“Not happening.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, sliding off of the rock he was using as a chair and sprawling out on the floor, pushing aside a few sticks. “Like, I was thinking about it, right? But then I decided not to, and I’m not completely sure why? I just feel kind of guilty about the entire thing? And I have a lot of personal stuff going on, you know? I’ve been trying to figure out what happened during those few months, and now with this whole investigation, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

He heard a muffled string of words from the other line. 

_Probably Walsh covering the microphone with her hand._

“He’s resisting,” he barely heard her whisper. 

“Damnit,” a man complained. “Give it to me. Duncan!” It was MacNeil. “Listen. I don’t know what sort of emotional issues you’re dealing with, but put it aside.”

“I thought you were supposed to be working on the letter?”

“I was, but now I have to deal with this. Listen. All of our work goes to waste if you get voted off this show. Be a man and kiss her, alright?”

“I don’t want to.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“Yes, it is,” he stood up from the dirt. “It’s _my_ life, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be overdramatic,” MacNeil was obviously fed up. “Just do it. I don’t have time to argue with some kid.”

“Right, because you only have time for me when you’re giving me orders,” Duncan was well-aware someone might walk by, but he was past caring. 

“I can’t deal with this. Duncan, you’re the one who agreed to help with this case. This isn’t a vacation. If you’re not completely committed to catching the Marlboro Murderer, then you need to tell us now so we don’t waste our time with you. Take this. I’m done with him,” his voice cut out. 

“Hello?” Walsh replaced MacNeil. “Are you there, Duncan?”

Duncan took out his earbuds, pocketed them, and sat back down on the ground. He could already feel it coming in waves. Blinding, burning, blistering rage. 

_That fucking bastard MacNeil thinks he can control my entire fucking life… God, I’d love to rip him apart… Saying I’M overdramatic when he wants me to manipulate some girl, that fucking creep, I bet he’d get off to it too. I don’t even want to be here right now. Accusing me of not being committed when I agreed to stay on an island in the middle of fucking nowhere after a coma, and Walsh just goes along with everything he says, that weak bitch. I can’t deal with this. What am I supposed to do with Courtney? Pretend to like her? Fuck… if the police are watching at home, they can see the confessionals. Maybe I am close to being voted off? Damnit! This whole thing will go to waste, and then what? We never catch the guy? And I wouldn’t even give a shit, but now I have this letter, and it’s personal… I’m in too deep. This whole thing was a mistake. Shit! I have to do something. Anything. Where’s my lighter?_

He held the smooth metal in his hands and scooped up a few sticks. 

_Nothing crazy. I can’t burn down the forest this early in the competition._

Flicking the sparkwheel, he held the sticks close to the flame and watched as the fire spread up and down the wood, replacing the sturdy bark with blackened ash. Inhaling the smoke, he paused for a moment to stare, trancelike, as the travelling blaze inched towards his hand. The moment before it burned him, he dropped the sticks and stamped out the fire with his boot, quickly putting the lighter back in his pocket. 

_Well, there went my resolve to not start any fires. I’ll say this was a one-time thing._

He knew it wouldn’t be. But it made him feel better about ending a seven month streak. 

“You always like hanging out in the woods by yourself, or only when you want to look mysterious?”

Turning around, he found Gwen leaning against a tree and smiling. 

“And do you always like to _stare_ at people when they hang out in the woods alone?”

“Touché. Come hang out with us?”

“Fine,” he followed her as she broke through the trees. “Who’s ‘us’?”

“Trent. Noah. A few others. The usual suspects.”

“How exciting.”

“More exciting than the woods, I bet.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure. I found some pretty interesting trees in there.”

Gwen’s friends were already sitting in a circle on the grass when they got there. Trent had his guitar in his lap and perked up when he saw her, then visibly grew annoyed when he realized Duncan would be there. Noah has his face in a book. Cody was also there, which was rather unfortunate because Duncan would have to use his best poker face and hope to God that Cody would be cool about the makeout incident. DJ sat there as well, waving at Duncan with a smile on his face.

“Picked up a castaway, if you guys don’t mind,” Gwen smiled as she sat down. 

“Jeez, is your entire team here?” Duncan took a seat between Gwen and DJ. 

“Our team is split in half at the moment,” Noah responded dryly as he turned a page of his book. 

“I’ve noticed a pretty sharp divide,” Duncan nodded. “You have the goth-hipster-nerd category, and the ‘other’ category.”

“And me,” Cody interjected. “Because I’m not a part of the first category. I just figured I’d hang out for a bit.”

“Pretty much,” Noah ignored him. “I don’t know about Beth, though. I think Heather kind of absorbed her.”

“I like Leshawna,” Gwen smiled. “But I think Harold is chasing her down at the moment. Ooh, wait. Tell us about the couples drama on your team!”

“What do you think, Duncan?” DJ smiled. “Is it safe to call Tyler and Lindsay a couple, or is that too risqué for Courtney?”

“Well, considering I saw them making out earlier, I think it’s safe to call it.”

“Saw that coming,” Trent picked at his guitar strings. 

_Absolutely insufferable._

“Are Bridgette and Geoff a thing?” DJ wondered out loud. 

“I don’t know,” Duncan mused. “Maybe. I think Bridgette might be difficult to win over.”

“No way,” Cody spoke. “I could win over Bridgette,” he declared with utmost confidence. “In fact, maybe I will.”

Duncan subtly glanced over to Noah to see him rolling his eyes as he was reading. He knew he couldn’t be the one to respond to Cody. 

_I might break, and then the whole thing falls apart._

Thankfully, DJ saved him. 

“Sure, Cody. Go for it. Just don’t try for Courtney, she’s obviously taken.”

“By who?” Duncan tried to sound indifferent, but he was obviously invested. 

_If she already hooked up with someone, that takes all the pressure off me._

“By you,” DJ smiled. 

“Really?” Trent smiled, convinced he’d have Gwen all to himself. 

“Nah, what are you talking about?” Duncan tried to brush him off.

“Come on, man,” DJ smiled. “You obviously like her.”

“I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“She definitely likes you,” DJ tried to convince him.

“It’s like an opposites attract type thing,” Gwen tried to explain it to him. “Like a rom-com. Gross. But cute.”

“Cliché,” Noah sighed, “but cute nonetheless.”

“Fine, fine,” DJ reassured Duncan, “you don’t have to admit anything. But I see it.”

The conversation moved on from there, but it didn’t matter. All Duncan needed to know is that everyone assumed he and Courtney were an item. He just had to make a move, assuming she liked him back, and it was a done deal. 

_Damnit. I can’t find any more excuses. It’s all up to me. I can’t get voted off. Is this really my only option? Manipulate this girl? I guess it’s for a good cause, but I still feel like shit. Still. I have to stay in the game if I’m going to help with this case, and that’s what I came here to do. I’m not going home to live with my fucking parents, or back to juvie, just because I wont kiss this girl. Sorry, Courtney._

He spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Gwen, DJ, and the others. It was a welcome break from a week of pure hell. And even though Trent bothered him to no end, he had to admit that the guy could play guitar.

“Anyone know what time it is?” He asked, sprawled out on the grass. 

“No idea,” Gwen flicked a few stray pebbles. 

“4:56,” Cody announced. “You should always have a watch. Right, Trent?”

“Yeah, sure, dude,” he agreed, mostly to get Cody to stop talking. 

“I have to head out,” Duncan stood up from the grass. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Where are you going?” Gwen wanted to know. 

“I just have to do something,” he gave a non-answer. “See ya.” Picking up his pace, he put in his earbuds when he was far enough away. 

“Hello?” He called out. 

“Hey, Duncan!” Thankfully, Chris answered. “Turn around.”

Doing as instructed, Duncan found Chris right behind him. 

“Oh, hey.”

“Walk with me,” Chris caught up to him and turned into the woods. “I don’t know what you said to those cops, but they were _pissed_ earlier. Going on about you being entitled or something. Now, I told them I didn’t give a shit, because look, I don’t give a shit. Want some Fritos?”

“Sure.”

Chris reached deep into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of Fritos, taking a few for himself before handing over the rest to Duncan. 

“Throw the ones you don’t want for the squirrels. Keeps ‘em around. So you got a letter or something? I really don’t understand why we need a meeting for this.”

“They want me to get with Courtney. So I stay in the competition longer.”

“Good strategy,” Chris nodded.

“Is it?”

“Yep. Trust me. It’ll work. Why, you don’t want to do it?”

“Not really.”

“Listen, just do what I do when I’m faced with a situation I don’t want to handle. Shove all emotions to the side, and just do it. That’s what I say. Ah, here we are.”

Chris gestured to an elegant mansion on the coast of the island. 

“What is this?” Duncan looked on in awe. He had rarely seen such beautiful houses in person. 

“My cottage,” Chris announced proudly. 

“Sorry, this is a cottage?”

“Yep! I live here while we film. I’ll show you inside,” Chris led him to the front door, which he unlocked with a golden key. “There we go… let me just lock this behind you.”

Duncan was terrified to touch anything in the house out of fear that he’d break something. 

“Just come with me to the kitchen… don’t tell anyone about this place, by the way. I’ll lose my shit.”

“I won’t say anything.”

Chris had a laptop that Duncan could never hope to afford on his kitchen table. 

“They were supposed to email me the letter… pull up a chair.” Duncan grabbed the closest intricately carved wooden chair, desperately trying not to scuff the kitchen floor, and sat down next to Chris. “Here it is. And I’ll do a video chat… God, I hate both of these people.”

Walsh and MacNeil appeared on-screen. 

“Hi, guys!” Chris gushed. 

“You’re both there?” MacNeil asked, stern as ever. 

_No way he’ll bring up the argument from before._

“Hey,” Duncan answered. 

“Perfect. We’ve had a chance to review the letter, and we’ve reached several conclusions. Officer Walsh, would you like to begin?”

“Hmm?” She was surprised to be addressed directly. “Sure,” she picked up a notepad and began to read. “After analyzing the language used in the letter and picking up on certain local idiosyncrasies, such as the use of “right” as an adverb and “stunned” to mean especially foolish, we’ve determined this person comes from the maritime provinces. Also, the use of red ink signifies a subtle hint of violence.”

While she spoke, Chris was reading the letter in another window. 

“In addition,” MacNeil took over, “the author directly acknowledges they’ve been watching Total Drama, which means we at least have their attention. They also have intimate knowledge of your injury. We’ve concluded that the Marlboro Murderer himself has written this letter.”

“Oh, wow. That’s crazy,” Chris wasn’t paying attention. 

“Why do you think so?” Duncan wanted to know more. 

_Fuck, I’m gonna die._

“He talks about how he’s never going to let you go, meaning he’s never going to give up his pursuit of trying to kill you. ‘Rabbit’ must be a code for something, but that’s obviously an animal frequently hunted down for sport. He specifically mentions stabbing your heart, which is what he did to his other victims. He talks about his disregard for the police because he knows he hasn’t been captured yet. The way this letter reads, he’s unleashing his frustrations for failing to capture you. The good thing is that he’s at least watching the show, which means we have the opportunity to find him. On the other hand, we have to remain more vigilant. We need him to send more letters so we can try and gather more information from him. Duncan, if you receive anything else in the mail, you have to tell us, alright?”

“Sure.”

“That’s all for now. Keep an eye out, both of you.” MacNeil hung up the call. 

“Wow,” Chris stared at the letter. “Can you believe this?”

“I know-”

“They’re both just so fucking stupid,” he shook his head. “It’s painfully obvious a serial killer didn’t send this letter.”

“Huh?”

“Look, he literally calls you a whore. And ‘I should have expected this kind of shit from you?’ The blind rage? Not caring how cringey it sounds? Feeling humiliated? All signs point to one direction,” Chris leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, satisfied with his analysis. 

“And… what’s the direction?”

“This was obviously written by a jealous ex. Or maybe not an ex! Ooh, have we stumbled into a lovers quarrel? The drama!” He was giddy with excitement. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Chris.”

“Duncan, do you know how many of these letters I’ve gotten throughout my life? More than I can count. I know what I’m talking about. Start with the beginning,” Chris zoomed in his laptop screen like he was examining some sort of complex puzzle. “Rabbit? That’s not a codeword, that’s a pet name. Condescending? Sure, but that’s part of it! And then look- right there, he’s ‘not going to let you go,’ but not in a murder sense, well, not in a serial killer sense, but in a _relationship_ sense. And ‘I thought you were dead.’ But the Marlboro Murderer knew you weren’t dead, right? So why would he put that in the letter?”

_I hate to say it, but he makes a lot of sense… No. I don’t have a jealous ex._

“I’m impressed,” Duncan conceded, “but I don’t have an ex, lover, whatever, who would send something like this. Think about it. First, they’d have to think I was dead, and they’d have to know I was stabbed, but even when that happened, there were no witnesses. No one knows about it, that’s part of the reason I was sent here in the first place.”

_Could I date someone and forget about their entire existence? How cold-blooded would that be? No, it’s just not possible. And I’m supposed to be with Courtney._

“Aren’t you supposed to be missing all of these memories?” Chris narrowed his eyes at him. “How could you know for sure?”

“It’s a fun theory, really, it’s just not realistic,” Duncan stood up and pushed in his chair, trying to end the conversation as fast as possible. 

“As unrealistic as an infamous serial killer sending a teenage boy a letter where he outlines how he’ll kill him, then urges him to call the police? Doesn’t the Marlboro Murderer value secrecy above all else? Dressing in all black, attacking at night?”

“I would remember,” Duncan took a few steps back.

“Why?” Chris stood up and tilted his head. “Why would you remember? You think your traumatic brain injury would make an exception for your romantic trysts?” 

“No,” Duncan didn’t expect this sort of hostility from Chris. “I just think you’re wrong.”

“Fine, side with the police,” Chris shrugged, completely disinterested. “Keep bringing them your letters if you want their opinion so badly.”

“I don’t want their opinion,” Duncan insisted. 

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, alright? This whole thing just got really complicated with Courtney, and now these letters, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, figure out,” Chris stated matter-of-factly, propping his feet up on the kitchen table that cost more than Duncan’s entire life. “You have a challenge tomorrow.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Duncan was annoyed that Chris riled him up only to stop talking. 

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Nothing,” Duncan decided he didn’t want Chris to say anything if he didn’t mean it. “I guess nothing.”

“Alright. Bye,” Chris decided he was done with him. Realizing how unwelcome and suddenly small he felt in Chris’ massive mansion, Duncan let himself out of the front door and began to walk back towards the cabins. 

_Putting all that aside, maybe I should have remembered something by now. Didn’t Dr. Cabot say it would all come back to me eventually? If I think about it too much, will I just chase it away?_

Duncan ate dinner with his team and tried to ignore the fact that there was a serial killer out there writing him letters and watching him on TV at that moment. 

_If he’s writing letters, he’s probably not here, right? Would Chris catch him on the cameras? Do the police have their own cameras set up somewhere? I’d ask, but God forbid I ask any question, and they act like I’m still in preschool…_

“Night guys!” Tyler announced as he stretched out on his bed. “I’m sure we’ll do great tomorrow!” 

“G’night,” Geoff was already half-asleep. 

Duncan barely closed his eyes. He found himself doing what he usually did at night. Despite his best intentions to sleep, he stared up at the ceiling and quietly thought to himself. 

_What a mess. What a goddamn disaster. I don’t even know what to do with myself. Chris is definitely wrong, by the way. I’m not even considering his theory. But what’s the alternative? The Marlboro Murderer is on his way here to gut me? Are the police actually going to protect me? Officer MacNeil, who hates me, and Walsh, who doesn’t have a backbone?_

Trying to pass the time, he took his sketchbook from his suitcase, careful not to wake any of his teammates. Soundlessly flipping through the pages, he flicked his lighter so he could see better. 

_What did I draw during the Awake-A-Thon? I don’t even remember…_

Reaching the most recent page, he came across the eyes he drew in the woods. He half-expected to find a mess of scribbles, but surprisingly, they were up to his standards. 

_Whose eyes are these?_

Entering a staring contest with a pencil sketch, he bore his eyes into the irises he created on the page. To his credit, he had a good amount of detail, far enough upwards to include strands of hair lazily falling into his subjects face, and all the way down to the tips of his cheeks.

_Do I know you? Or are you just a random face I thought up when I stopped sleeping? Isn’t it true that every face you see in a dream is a face you’ve seen before? Maybe it’s like that. You can never come up with a truly original face, but every face you’ve drawn is one you’ve already known. Or maybe I’m just tired._

Deciding he needed to force himself to sleep so he didn’t lose tomorrow, he looked at the drawing for a few more moments before putting it away, snuffing his lighter and laying on his side, enjoying the view of the cabin wall. 

And maybe, just for a brief instant, he pictured those eyes inches away from his own, staring back at him from the darkness. 

“Alright, campers, get out here!” Chris announced the next morning, his voice booming throughout the cabin. 

“Why does he have to do that?” Courtney complained from her bed. 

“Come on, let’s get moving!” He yelled again. 

“Hey, at least it’s not six in the morning,” DJ smiled. “At least, I don’t think.”

The Killer Bass forced themselves out of their cabin half-asleep, gathering around Chris as he stood impatiently waiting. 

“Ok, listen up!” He announced when both teams were outside. “Today, we’ll be having a talent show!” 

A few of the campers murmured in delight. 

_I’m sure Trent’s thrilled right now. He’ll probably sing to Gwen or some shit._

Sure enough, he was smiling. 

“The rules are simple,” Chris continued. “Each team will choose three members to compete in the talent show, and the judges will give each act a score. The team with the average highest score wins the challenge! Now… get to it!” Chris clapped his hands. 

_No way am I competing. Absolutely not. I’d rather die than sing or something in front of these people._

“What do we think, guys?” Courtney gathered the team in a circle near the cabin. “Actually,” she glanced towards the Gophers. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want them stealing our ideas.”

Once Sadie shut the cabin door, everyone began to talk at once. 

“I can skateboard!” Geoff announced. 

“Ooh, I can do a handstand?” Bridgette offered.

“Already, everybody, just… be quiet, alright? Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll hold an audition, alright? Anyone who wants to compete needs to audition, and we’ll go from there. We can do it near the beach, just as long as the Gophers don’t see us. Sounds good?”

With no objections, the team tore through their suitcases to gather anything they needed for their respective talents. 

“Let’s see…” Duncan spoke to Courtney as they walked near the beach. “Violin?” He looked at the violin case in her hands.

“How’d you guess?” 

“No idea. It’s cool, though.”

“Really? You think violin is cool?” She repeated incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

_She’s right._

“Well, maybe _I_ don’t listen to classical music…”

“Hm-hmm,” she looked him up and down like she expected that answer. “Alright, everyone!” She captured her teammates attention when she found a good spot to hold auditions. “Who wants to go first?”

“I’d like to go, if that’s alright with you guys,” DJ requested. 

“Yeah, DJ!” Katie cheered. “Go for it!”

He jogged up to the front of the small crowd holding a ribbon. 

“So, I’ll be doing a ribbon dance. Um, here goes…”

Duncan didn’t know a damn thing about ribbon dancing, but he had to admit he was impressed. 

“Dude,” Geoff stood up when DJ finished. “That was, like, awesome.”

“Thanks, man,” DJ smiled. “I really appreciate that, I worked hard on it.”

“Who’s up next?” Courtney tried to keep it moving.

Geoff performed a few tricks on his skateboard, Bridgette did a handstand for a full twenty minutes, and Courtney performed a solo on her violin. 

“Alright, I’ll eliminate myself,” Bridgette smiled. “Courtney, that was awesome. You should totally go.”

Duncan failed to see what was so great about her song, but since he needed to be on her good side, he gave her a smile. 

“Thanks, Bridgette,” Courtney beamed. “So, Geoff, DJ, and I will go on. Any objections?” She had a look in her eye that let everyone know she would be pissed if anyone dared to object. “Good. It’s settled. Competitors, take the time to practice. Everyone else… just be a good audience member. That’s all!”

Once again, Duncan was left not knowing what to do with himself. The remaining members of his team suggested they hang out on the beach for a while, and figuring he had nothing better to do, Duncan decided to stick around. Besides, if he tried to track down any of the Gophers, he might be accused of trying to spy on them, or even worse, he might have to watch Trent sing a love song or Cody try to rap, both of which sent shivers down his spine. Bridgette left at some point to find Geoff, no surprise, and Tyler snuck away for another makeout session with Lindsay, which left Duncan with Harold, Katie, and Sadie. He could only stand that for so long, so he decided to take a walk. 

_This was such a dumb idea. There’s a serial killer out there, and I’m walking alone. Why do I do this? God, I’m such an idiot._

A quiet sniffling sound alerted him to the fact that he was not alone on the trail. 

_Oh fuck, now what?_

He spun around for the source of the noise and found a figure hunched over between the trees. 

“Courtney?”

“Oh!” She spun around, quickly wiping her eyes. “Hey, Duncan.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah, nothing,” she waved him off. “Bridgette tried to do a handstand and broke my violin, so I can’t perform tonight,” she sniffled.

“Sorry to hear that,” he didn’t know what to say. He really didn’t like emotional situations with people he wasn’t very close with, and even then, he had issues with it. 

“It’s fine, really,” she reassured him. “Bridgette’s going in my place, so there’s no problem.”

_Normally, I would keep walking, but this could be my chance…_

“Then why are you crying?”

“Seriously? I’m not telling you anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t care,” she stated like it was obvious. “Why would I tell you when you’ll just throw it back at me?”

_Alright, I have to be careful. Make her think she’s broken through the bad boy exterior. Here goes._

Duncan looked from side to side as if to make sure no one was watching. Taking a step closer to her, he lowered his voice. 

“Look, Courtney, can you keep this between us?”

He waited for her to nod.

“Good. Look...um, this may not mean anything to you, alright? But between you and me, I think you’ve done an amazing job leading this team. I think you have a fire burning deep inside, and I know you were excited to perform tonight, but you can’t let Bridgette’s mistake ruin this challenge for you, because you’re so much better than that. I promise, Courtney, your time will come. And I’ll be there to cheer you on when it does.”

She stared at him wide-eyed, too surprised and confused to continue crying. 

“Oh. Um, thank you,” she blushed ever-so-slightly. 

“And every time I tease you about being a CIT? It’s because I know only a CIT could put up with my sarcasm, yeah?”

“Shut up,” she smiled. “Nobody can put up with you.”

“Ouch, and you always bite back. Well, Courtney, I know you’ll be alright. And I’ll see you tonight, right?”

“Of course,” she smiled. 

“Good.”

_Vomit. Oh, I can’t believe I pulled that off. And she was so into it! I should really be getting laid more often if I’m this good at it._

The talent show itself was a complete disaster. Just as Duncan predicted, Trent performed a love song for Gwen, which made him want to gouge his eyes and ears out. Justin choreographed the most sexual dance that Duncan had ever seen, although looking back, it was really a striptease. When he did the math, Duncan realized that statistically, over half the audience (himself included) wanted to fuck Justin, so the Gophers made the right call with that one. Then, Heather pretended to do a ballet routine, only to stop and read Gwen’s diary, revealing her feelings for Trent, which was a complete shitshow. Duncan would have gone after her, but he decided to let Trent have his moment and talk to Gwen alone. On the Killer Bass, DJ tripped all over the stage, Geoff broke his skateboard, and Bridgette vomited everywhere, disqualifying herself. 

“Alright,” Chris announced. “Does anyone on the Killer Bass have another talent? If not, the Gophers win!”

_Nah. I’ll take the loss._

“I do!” Harold yelled from the back row, standing up and running to the stage in the most dramatic fashion he could muster. 

“And what will you be doing, Harold?” Chris looked doubtful. 

“I will be… beatboxing!” 

“We’re fucked,” Geoff put his head in his hands. 

To the surprise of the entire audience, Harold actually knew what he was doing. In fact, he sounded pretty good. Really good. 

“Yeah, Harold!” Sadie screamed. 

“We love you!” Katie joined in. 

“I can’t believe this…” Tyler grinned. “He’s actually doing it!”

As he finished his routine, the Killer Bass gave him a round of applause. 

“Thank you,” Harold whispered as he bowed. 

“I can’t believe it… but the Killer Bass win! Gophers, I’ll see you at elimination!”

“We did it!” Courtney shrieked, hugging Duncan. 

“Ah, yeah,” he agreed, hugging her back before both of them quickly stepped away. 

“Come on, guys, party at the Killer Bass cabin!” Geoff cheered as he began to run back towards the cabin. 

_Jeez, is this really that big a deal? It’s just one challenge._

Geoff’s ‘party’ consisted of everyone sitting quietly on their beds, giving Harold occasional praise. One of Chris’ interns dropped off more fanmail, so Duncan had that to keep him occupied. He looked for any more ‘Rabbits,’ and, failing that, red ink. He found one that looked promising. It was the same envelope, same shade of ink, but it just had his first name. 

_What horror am I unleashing now?_

> Duncan,  
>  Crikey, I don’t know what you did, but all hell is breaking loose back home. I’ve been told that _someone_ sent you a letter threatening to murder you. Sorry about that, mate! But on the off-chance you called the cops, I’m not writing down anyone’s names, but you already know everyone, so I’m sure it’ll be fine, yeah? Anyways, you-know-who is on the warpath, losing his fucking mind, beating up random blokes, it’s a real mess. I tried to convince him to not write you that letter, but the bastard did it anyways. And the other you-know-who is basically suicidal, he’s in a horrific depressive spiral because the original you-know-who convinced him that you hated him so much you faked your own death so you would never have to see him again.You know how those two operate. I keep trying to convince Other You-Know-Who to write you a letter so you can hopefully reassure him and he doesn’t kill himself, as that would be rather unfortunate for the rest of us. Unless you actually despise all of us and this was your plan all along! Mate… was he right about this? Much to think about… Duncan, Dunkaroo, please do something soon. It’s a bloody shitshow over here.

_Now… this one makes even less sense. I don’t even know what I’m reading. There’s not a single sentence here that I understood. But I know one thing, I’m not bringing it to the cops so they can fuck it up._

“Guys!” Sadie flung open the cabin door. Duncan didn’t even realize she wasn’t there to begin with. “They voted Justin off!”

“What?” Katie shrieked. 

Duncan used the distraction to fold the letter and put it in his pocket. 

_Yep, I’ll handle this one by myself._


	7. Onomatophobia

A/N Hey guys! Back with another chapter! My schedule opened up a bit so you know a bitch is gonna be writing nonstop. Next chapter is out next Friday the latest. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven

Onomatophobia: The fear of hearing a certain word.

Duncan snuck away from his teammates fairly early in the morning so he could look at the letter without someone lurking over his shoulder. He tried to think of a decent excuse, but thankfully, nobody asked where he went. 

_I’m sure they’re used to the fact that I randomly leave… They probably think I’m sneaking off into the woods to do drugs._

As he left the cabin, forgoing breakfast altogether, he debated whether to find Chris and ask for his opinion. 

_Fuck it. That was my mistake last time, wasn’t it? Bringing someone else into it? And Chris had no idea what he was talking about. I’m sure I can figure this out by myself. Let’s see…_

He took a few steps into the woods, just enough so he’d have some privacy but he wouldn’t get lost. Unfolding both letters from his pocket, he took the newest one and examined the first line. 

_The handwriting looks different… And this person used my first name. But ‘crikey’? ‘Bloke’? And who are these people he’s talking about? ‘You-Know-Who’? I have no fucking idea! Alright… let’s take a step back. We have three different people. This guy. The guy who wrote the other letter. And another guy who might kill himself? And some of these people think I faked my death, but not all of them._

A sudden crunching sound alerted Duncan to the fact that someone was walking through the forest. 

“Hello?” He called out, trying to steady his voice. His teammates should be eating breakfast. 

“Duncan!” Chris announced as he emerged from a bush. 

“Hey, Chris,” Duncan relaxed as he tried to hide the letter in his hand. 

“Nah-ah, don’t bother, hand it over,” Chris beckoned his fingers. 

“Hand what over?” Duncan smiled obliviously. 

“Don’t bother. There’s cameras all over this place. What, someone sent you another letter?”

“Since when do you care?” Duncan frowned at Chris’ sudden interest in his life. “Weren’t you the one who got all pissed off when I didn’t believe your theory?”

“I don’t care,” Chris insisted. “I just like knowing things the police don’t. You know. Just in case I need a favor. Unless you’ve already told them?”

“I wasn’t going to,” Duncan took the letter back out of his pocket. 

“Perfect,” Chris grinned. “Let’s see it!” He sat down directly next to Duncan. 

“Fine,” Duncan begrudgingly agreed as he handed the letter to Chris. “Just… don’t be weird about it.”

_As long as he hosts the show, I’m sure he partially controls who stays in the competition. If I piss him off too much, who’s to say he won’t kick me off somehow? I can’t have another repeat of last night._

“Ok! So…” Chris clapped his hands to signify he finished reading. “Here’s what I think. Take this,” he gave the letter back to Duncan. “First of all, I don’t know what you did, but you got yourself into a complete mess. Second of all, you know when one of your friends is going through a really messy breakup, and she takes a few shots of tequila and decides she’s gonna call her ex, and you sit there and you’re begging her not to do it, but she does it anyways, and it’s a whole disaster, and you’re on damage control?”

_That’s the exact type of teen movie shit I’ve never experienced in my life._

“Not really,” Duncan admitted. 

“Well, originally I thought it was one of those situations. The person who wrote this letter… we’ll call him Person B, was on damage control for Person A, who wrote the original letter… but now we have this mysterious third player… Person C. And I thought Person A was the ex due to the scathing letter, but that doesn’t explain Person C’s depressive spiral. And why would Person A convince Person C you faked your death if you were dating one of them?… Alright, look,” Chris stopped his explanation. “Obviously, I can’t ask you this, but before I go any further and waste my time analyzing this mess… You tell me. Am I wasting my time?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of lost, actually.”

“No, I mean… Think about what I’m saying. I can’t ask you directly or I’ll get sued. These people are all guys. And I suggested you dated one of them, and you said no, because you would’ve remembered doing that.”

“Of course.”

“But… If you could… And obviously I can’t use any footage of this conversation…”

“Oh,” Duncan caught on. “You mean, like, would I do it.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Well, in that case, I have no idea what’s going on anymore.”

“What? Chris!” Duncan turned to face the host, who was picking at sticks on the ground. “I thought you had all these theories with codenames and stuff.”

“I did! I thought for sure Person A made sense as the ex, but now I’m leaning towards Person C, because if Person C was just a friend, why would they have so many issues reaching out? But Person A was too pissed off to be just a friend! And I’m not sure about Person B in this equation either… or the others.”

“The fuck do you mean, ‘the others?’”

“The others!” Chris gestured wildly to a line on the page. “It says it right here. He talks about ‘the rest of us.’ So there could be more.”

“Oh my God, who are these fucking people?” Duncan complained. 

“It’s not that bad,” Chris stood up and wiped the dirt off his pants. “Maybe we’re overthinking this. It’s possible these are all just platonic friends. I guess.”

“You don’t think that.”

“Nah. Good luck! I have to plan some challenges,” Chris left Duncan to sulk by himself in the woods, which was quickly becoming his favorite pastime. 

_Fuck this. I could sit here for hours, and I’ll never know what this letter is supposed to mean. I just hate how he writes like he obviously expects me to know what’s going on. Like we’re old pals talking about some bullshit drama. Christ, ‘Dunkaroo?’ Like the snack? Hell, don’t tell me I’m supposed to date this one too. No, stop thinking about it. You’re reading into it too much. And you know what? Not one of these letters has mentioned that goddamned Céline Dion song. What was the point of that? Did I just make that shit up?_

He folded the letter and put it back in his pocket, leaving the woods to find anyone to talk to. He had to get his mind off of the rapidly unfolding drama he found himself in the center of. 

After the whole diary disaster with Gwen last night, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to find her or let her be. 

_Is it weird to hang out with her friends if she isn’t there? Especially if they’re on the other team… And do I even want to hang out with them? I don’t want to be stuck in a conversation with Trent, or Cody… What would we even talk about? They’re both just so annoying. Is Noah actually my favorite? At least he tells it like it is. But he went for Cody. What does that say about him? Then again, am I really in a position to judge?_

“Oh. Hey, Duncan.”

Of course, Trent was standing directly in front of him, clearly not pleased to see Duncan there. 

_Jesus, I need to start looking where I’m going._

“Hey man,” Duncan hoped Trent would just nod and keep walking, but he didn’t move. 

_Fuck, is this gonna be a whole conversation?_

“Did you talk to Gwen by any chance?” Trent demanded to know. “Since last night, I mean?” He rubbed his neck, trying to seem relaxed, but clearly on edge. 

“Nope. Haven’t seen her,” Duncan tried to inch past him, but Trent wouldn’t drop the subject. 

“Yeah. I mean, I talked to her. We talked for a while, actually. Which only makes sense. You know.”

“Sure.”

“I mean, you heard what Heather said, right?”

_Gwen wrote that she liked him, right? What can we do with that… Clearly, he wants me to talk about how much Gwen adores him. Oh, I have an idea. Trent, you make it too easy, dude._

“At the talent show?” Duncan tilted his head like he was trying to remember. 

“Of course,” Trent smiled in anticipation, losing his shit for the moment that Duncan admitted out loud that Gwen had feelings for him. 

“Oh yeah… she read Gwen’s diary, right? Not gonna lie, dude, I barely remember anything she said. I almost fell asleep, actually. It must have been a really boring diary,” Duncan shrugged. 

“Oh,” Trent visibly deflated. 

“Oh, no, wait! Didn’t she mention you?”

“Yes!” Trent perked up. “See, you remember!”

“Yeah, didn’t she say you were annoying or something? Sorry about that, man,” Duncan shook his head. 

“No, she didn’t,” Trent glared at him, desperate to defend himself. “She actually said she liked me, and she thought I was cute, and now we’re dating!” 

_And… in for the kill._

“Woah, dude, calm down,” Duncan put his hands up in defense. “Relax, alright?And if you must know, I purposely didn’t listen to what Heather said because I thought it was an invasion of privacy to listen to someone read Gwen’s diary aloud without her permission. Actually, Trent, if you had feelings for her, why didn’t you stop Heather from reading Gwen’s diary on national TV?” Duncan looked at him in confusion, a look of perfect innocence on his face. 

“Um… Well, I did try, but…” Trent scrambled to come up with an answer. 

“Oh, hi, guys!” Gwen ran up behind Trent, saving him from an answer. He spun around in a panic, praying she didn’t hear his conversation with Duncan. 

“Hi, Gwen,” he smiled. 

“Hey,” Duncan nodded at her. 

“Duncan, we’re going to the docks, wanna join?” She invited him. The panicked look in Trent’s eyes, combined with the fact that Duncan didn’t want to third wheel, made this an easy decision. 

“No way am I crashing your date. I’ll leave the love birds alone.”

“Oh my God, shut up!” She pleaded. “Oh, and Courtney was looking for you earlier back at the cabins, so you’re definitely one to talk.”

“Don’t let me keep you, then,” Duncan let them be. “See ya, Trent.”

“Bye, man,” he stared down at the floor. 

_And now I have to deal with Courtney. It’s never easy, is it?_

As he retraced his steps back to the cabin, Duncan tried to figure out what Courtney wanted from him. 

_I have to keep her in the mix. I’m sure whoever’s writing these letters is going to be pissed if I kiss her on TV, but what else am I supposed to do? I don’t even know these people! At least Courtney definitely exists._

He walked past Heather, Lindsay, and Beth on the beach. Beth waved at him, but Heather quickly shut her down. Duncan didn’t mind. He wasn’t desperate for Beth’s friendship, and Lindsay didn’t even seem to recognize him from her makeout session with Tyler. 

Duncan opened the cabin door to find Courtney sitting cross legged on her bed, nodding at something DJ was telling her. On the other side of the room, Katie and Sadie were immersed in some discussion that Duncan couldn’t care less about. When Courtney noticed Duncan standing awkwardly in the doorway, she excused herself from DJ and waved to Duncan. 

“I’ll be right back,” she reassured DJ as she opened the cabin door, ushering Duncan outside. 

“What’s going on?” He shut the door behind them as they both stood on the short staircase leading up to the cabin. Courtney didn’t answer, preferring to narrow her eyes and look him up and down. 

“You skipped breakfast.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Well, shouldn’t you eat something?”

“That’s why you brought me here?”

“No, no,” she shook her head. “Come with me, I don’t want anyone hearing anything,” she glanced at the cabin door before taking the final few steps to the ground. 

“Alright, whatever you say,” he followed behind her. She waited for him to catch up so they could walk side by side. 

“So I’ve been thinking,” she mused as they followed one of the many trails leading from the cabin out into the woods. “If we lose our next challenge- and we better not, by the way. But just in case, someone has to go, right?”

“That’s how the game works.”

“I know that! I’m just saying, Zeke and Eva were easy to vote off, but now, it’s a bit more difficult…So, who do you plan on voting for?”

“I don’t know, I was thinking- wait… are you coming to me for help?”

“No-”

“Look at Miss CIT, asking me for advice!”

“Forget it,” she stopped walking and crossed her arms. “I knew you’d be a total jerk about this. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

_Shit, wait. This is the opposite of what I’m supposed to be saying!_

“No, no, wait. I’m sorry. Really,” he reassured her, “it’s good to plan ahead. Let’s talk about it.”

“Fine,” she started to walk again. “Well, if you really mean that, then you go first. Who are you voting for?”

_She could tell everyone my answer, and turn them all against me… But doesn’t she have feelings for me?_

“Don’t know yet,” Duncan shrugged. “Geoff will be strong competition in the future, but I don’t think Bridgette, Tyler, or DJ would ever vote against him. And Harold just won us the last challenge, so he’s probably safe this time around. Katie and Sadie are both annoying, so I’d probably vote for one of them.”

“Hey, good job!” She smiled at him. “I had the same idea. Katie and Sadie are the obvious choices. Once we vote off one, the other will follow. After those two, I’m not sure. I think it will be easier to get rid of Harold, but… ”

_I don’t think she realizes it… and she probably isn’t doing it on purpose. But sometimes she talks to me like I’m a kid misbehaving in class that needs to be praised or reprimanded. She has to think I’m a complete idiot, even if it’s just subconsciously._

“Where are you from again?” He interrupted her discussion on which teammate to vote off. 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s hard to predict that far in advance who to vote off. We have to count on someone fucking up the challenge. But for now, Katie and Sadie. Sure.”

“I’m from here. Ontario. I don’t see why it matters, though,” she was obviously annoyed he didn’t care about her elimination theories. 

“And what does Courtney from here in Ontario like to do?” The path they followed led them through a small patch of woods. 

“I thought we were talking about who to vote off,” she frowned.

“We can if you want. But this is more fun, isn’t it?”

_This fucking blows. Why would I want to know more about her? Won’t that just make me feel worse about this whole thing?_

“Well, if you must know,” she was clearly pleased that he was taking an interest in her personal life, “I’m on the student council, I study French, I play the violin, I work at an ice cream shop over the summer, I’m on the debate team, I do mock trial, Model UN…” she listed off her accomplishments. “What do you do?” She looked at him expectantly. 

_No one’s officially told me yet, but I’m pretty sure I failed out of high school. Fuck, why did I ask her that question? Of course she’d ask me the same thing! And I don’t want to tell her all my personal stuff… Shit, alright, how do I spin this?_

“Well,” he scrambled for an answer, “School-wise, you know. I’m alright. I guess English is my favorite subject. And… oh, right, you take French. I got out of that because I already speak another language, so I guess Gaelic was good for something after all. Um, I do a lot of graffiti,” he noted the look of complete disappointment on her face. “I take it you’re not a fan?”

“It’s destruction of public property,” she explained. 

“It’s art,” he stated simply. 

“It’s vandalism. You can’t deface a few buildings and say you’re an artist.”

“People spend a lot of time on graffiti,” he tried to explain, not mentioning the stacks of sketchbooks hidden in the floorboards under his room. “I say it’s art.”

“Well, under Canadian law, it’s not art. I’m studying to be a lawyer, so...” she smiled apologetically. “You’re wrong on this one.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” he gritted his teeth. “For now, at least,” he added before she could argue. 

“Alright,” she shrugged. 

“So, you want to be a lawyer?” He tried to keep the conversation going. “I could see that. You clearly like to argue.”

“I like to call it… debating. It’s an important skill to have,” she nodded. “What about you?”

“I’m not sure, really.”

_Tattoo artist, but if I say that, she’ll lose her mind. Why does she even like me?_

“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She definitely didn’t sound sure.

“You’d be a great lawyer,” he didn’t know what else to add.

“Thank you,” she smiled. 

Eventually, they made their way back to the cabin. As far as Duncan was concerned, he did his work for the day. He spent time analysing the letters, he messed with Trent, and he spent his police-mandated time with Courtney. By the time she opened the cabin door, most of the Killer Bass were sprawled out on their beds, save for Tyler, who was probably off with Lindsay. 

“Where’d you guys go?” Bridgette looked up from her bed as she painted her nails. 

“We just went for a walk,” Courtney shrugged her off as she walked to her bed.

“Oh?” Bridgette raised an eyebrow.

“It was just a walk, Bridgette,” Courtney hissed at her, which meant they probably discussed her relationship status with Duncan beforehand. 

“Jesus, Bridgette, what’s going on with your nails?” Sadie watched as Bridgette smeared nail polish all over her fingers. 

“I don’t know,” Bridgette sighed. “I’m not really good at this kind of thing. I thought I’d give it a try, but it’s not working out. Maybe my hands are too shaky.”

“I’ll paint them for you,” Geoff offered. 

“Um, what?” Bridgette stared at him.

_Oh, no, dude. Give it a rest._

Duncan buried his face in his pillow so he wouldn’t have to watch the scene unfold. 

“Yeah, like, sure. I’ll do it,” Geoff doubled down. “I’ll even do your toes, if you want.”

“Dude,” Duncan could hear DJ whisper under his breath. 

“Excuse me?” Bridgette asked. Duncan figured he may as well step in. 

“Your hands aren’t too shaky, Bridgette,” Duncan mumbled into his pillow. “You have to put the hand you’re painting on a flat surface instead of holding it in the air.”

“And how do you know this? Personal experience?” Geoff asked him, expecting Duncan to prove him wrong. 

“Yep.”

“Seriously?” Geoff snorted. “You paint your nails?”

“Sometimes. Why,” Duncan sat up to look at Geoff, “you got a problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Geoff put up his hands in defense. 

“Does anyone else here have anything to say about it?” He scanned the room, surveying each of his teammates. 

_God, who gives a shit? Didn’t these people ever go through a black nail polish phase in middle school?_

“My mama told me to never judge others based on appearance,” DJ announced. 

“In Ancient Egypt, they painted mummies nails red with henna dye,” Harold explained as if that had to do with anything being discussed. 

“Hey, Duncan, this totally works!” Bridgette focused intently on her nail-painting efforts. “Thanks a bunch!”

“No problem,” he laid back down on his bed.

“Guys!” Tyler flung open the cabin door. “Guess who just made out with Lindsay for a whole hour!”

“Dude, no way!” Geoff stood up to clap Tyler on the back. 

“Tyler, I thought we agreed on no relationships with the other team,” Courtney crossed her arms and frowned. 

“Sorry, Courtney, but we’re past that now. Who wants to hear about it?” 

“Ooh, I love relationship drama!” Katie squealed. 

“Alright, here’s how it went down. So first, I wasn’t totally sure if she was down, right?” He gathered his teammates around his bed like he was telling a campfire story. “But then, she said she was down. So I was like, ok, I’m also down. And so…”

Duncan had no interest in the story when he had his own issues to deal with. 

_Courtney… what do I do with her? Kiss her? What if she wants to go further? No way am I doing that. What if it turns out I do have some boyfriend hidden away somewhere? God forbid he actually shows up here? I have no idea how I’d explain that one to her, and I can’t warn the police, because they think that first letter was written by a serial killer._

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Tyler recounted in graphic detail his makeout session with Lindsay, which Duncan tuned out. Since they had a challenge the next day, everyone tried to go to bed at a reasonable time. 

Of course, that left Duncan to lay awake in silence. 

_Look, on the off chance Chris is right, and this ex-boyfriend and random other people do exist… What am I supposed to do? Pick up where I left off? Did we even officially break up, or did I just drop off the face of the earth? No wonder he’s so pissed… I know myself, I wouldn’t date someone if I didn’t want to. I should trust my past-selves judgement that I didn’t get involved with a complete weirdo. But I don’t even know what’s going on anymore._

The next morning, Duncan knew he couldn’t get away with skipping breakfast. He didn’t have a valid reason, like another secret letter to analyze, so he went to the mess hall with his team and forced himself to eat some food. It’s not that he disliked the taste, but food, especially breakfast, just wasn’t his thing. 

“What do you guys think today’s challenge is gonna be?” Tyler wolfed down his breakfast. 

“How would any of us know that? It’s probably something traumatic,” Courtney shuddered. 

“Last time wasn’t too bad,” DJ tried to keep a positive mood.

“Yeah, but that means Chris will be twice as vicious today,” Courtney explained. 

“Oh.”

The Killer Bass spent the entire day on edge, waiting for Chris to announce the challenge at any moment. Courtney insisted that they stay together so they would always be prepared, but the day dragged on, and Chris had yet to day anything. 

It wasn’t until sunset that his voice crackled through the speakers outside. 

“Good evening, campers! Come meet me at the edge of the woods for your next challenge! And be prepared, you’ll be here for a while!”

_In the woods for a while at night? Goddamnit…_

Begrudgingly, Duncan took his earbuds from his suitcase and slipped them in his pocket, making sure he had his lighter as well. 

“Which woods is he talking about?” Sadie wondered out loud. “Isn’t this entire island covered in woods?”

“Chris!” Geoff called out. “Which woods?”

“The main woods!” The speakers replied.

“Where is that?” Courtney asked aloud. 

“Just walk straight… no, the other straight… there you go! Just keep walking that way!” Once the Killer Bass finally figured out where they were supposed to go, they found Chris and the Screaming Gophers already standing near a large expanse of dense trees. 

“Alright, campers, listen up!” Chris caught their attention. “Today’s challenge is going to be a wilderness survival competition! The first team to survive in the woods overnight and return the next morning with all of their team members wins! There’s shelter in the woods, of course… if you can find it! Heh heh. You can take this,” he handed a map and compass to Heather and Duncan. 

“Thank you,” Courtney took the map right out of Duncan’s hands. 

_Oh my God, don’t do that type of shit. Don’t just take shit out of people’s hands like that._

“And your time starts… now!” Chris announced. “And watch out for bears!”

“Let’s go guys!” Tyler led his team into the woods. 

“Shouldn’t we look at the map?” Courtney begged him, trying to keep up. “Tyler, wait!”

Duncan took the opportunity to put the compass in his pocket while his team ran after Tyler, deep into the trees under the quickly darkening sky. 

“Where are we going?” Geoff asked as he ran after Tyler.

“I dunno, man, I just thought I’d thought I’d see where the path takes me.”

“I like that idea, bro, it’s very zen.”

“Alright, can we stop?” Courtney demanded. “We have a map.”

“Oh, for real? I wasn’t paying attention,” Tyler stopped running. “Where do we have to go?”

“Well,” Courtney squinted at the map. “It says we need to go… hang on, the trail splits up ahead. We need to turn right.”

“Hell yeah, Courtney!” Tyler cheered. “Right up ahead!” He started to jog again. 

“I don’t know how he does it,” Bridgette shook her head. 

“I know, right!” Katie smiled. “I can’t even keep up!”

“Also, Sadie, thank you so much for letting me borrow your nail polish, you’re a total life saver!” Bridgette added. 

“Oh my God, don’t even worry about it!”

“I’m so glad there’s other girls on this team,” Bridgette eyed Tyler and Geoff up ahead. “Those two are great and all, but I couldn’t survive with just the guys. No offense, Harold!”

“What?” Harold looked up, completely oblivious to the conversation happening around him. 

_I guess I’ll go fuck myself, then. Wait a second, why is Bridgette friends with Katie and Sadie all of the sudden? Those two were supposed to be easy to vote off, but now Bridgette wants to keep them on the team? And Geoff will vote however Bridgette wants… so who’s next to go? We have to win this challenge, or at least, someone has to fuck up and make themselves an easy target._

“Alright, is something supposed to be here?” Tyler asked when they reached the campsite. “All I see are a bunch of boxes.”

“The map says we’re here…” Courtney peered at the piece of paper in her hands. 

“I did say this was a survival challenge!” Chris’ voice boomed from somewhere. “Which means you have to do everything yourself!”

“There’s a tent in this box,” Bridgette called out from the corner of the barren campsite. “It’s not put together or anything.”

“Step aside, I’ll take care of it,” Harold announced. “I’ve put together many tents in my day,” he yanked the cloth out of the box, along with a mass of metal poles tangled together. Staring at the mess on the ground, he paused for a moment. 

“You’re sure about that, Harold?” Bridgette asked gently. 

“Actually, my wilderness survival skills might be better suited to finding food,” he nodded. “Foraging for berries. Hunting animals.”

“You do that. I’ll handle the tent.”

“I’ll go with you, Harold,” DJ offered. “We shouldn’t send anyone out there alone.”

“Shit, did anyone just feel rain?” Tyler peered up at the sky. 

“Ah, don’t jinx it, Tyler,” Duncan sighed. 

“No, bro, for real. I swear it’s raining.”

Sure enough, Duncan felt a few drops hit the top of his head. 

“Well, that’s right fucking fantastic.”

“Stop bitching, it’s not that bad,” Geoff shrugged off his concerns. A moment after the words left his mouth, a deafening crack of thunder sounded from the sky.

“Let’s get going before it starts to pour,” DJ looked nervous. 

“Take the map,” Courtney handed it over. “The rest of us will set up here. Nobody else leaves.”

“Where’s Katie and Sadie?” Bridgette looked for her friends. 

“What do you mean? They’re not here?” Courtney grew frantic.

“Don’t worry,” Tyler reassured her. “I’m sure they’ll find us. All we had to do was follow the map.”

“But they don’t have the map, Tyler.”

“It’s fine,” Duncan stepped in. “They have hours to find us, and they can’t have gone that far. DJ and Harold, you guys look for food. We’ll work on the campsite.”

_If they get lost and ruin the challenge for us, it’ll be perfect. They’ll be easy targets to vote off. Even if Bridgette wants to be their friend, she’ll have no choice but to eliminate them for costing us the win._

“Hey, Bridgette, want some help with that tent?” Geoff offered. 

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

“Wait, how are you almost done?”

“I go camping all the time,” she wiped a few raindrops from her forehead. 

“That’s impressive. You pitch a tent like a guy.”

“Oh. Uh,” she didn’t know how to answer, “thanks? Maybe? Why can’t girls pitch tents, though?”

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that! Um, I meant…”

Duncan took the opportunity to step aside and click on the earbuds in his pocket, slipping them in his ears. 

_Please not MacNeil, please not MacNeil…_

“Hello?” Officer Walsh asked him. 

_Oh, thank God._

“Can’t talk,” he spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “We’re in the woods overnight.”

“Understood.”

“We’re going to need some water…” Courtney decided. “Duncan, come with me.”

“Sure,” he agreed, not bothering to ask about what happened to her whole rule about nobody leaving the campsite. 

“We won’t go too far… just to see if there’s a stream nearby. It has to be running water, you know, or we’ll get sick.”

“Can’t we just drink the rainwater?” He asked as she led him away from the campsite. 

“Acid rain,” she said as if it were obvious. “And there’s a ton of contamination in rainwater.”

“Fine.”

“Just a little further… alright. Listen. You saw how Bridgette was talking with Katie and Sadie, right?”

“So we’re not looking for water?”

“Forget that. I’m sure Geoff will vote however Bridgette wants, and if she doesn’t vote for Katie or Sadie, then she might go for one of us.”

“I… yeah. Actually, I thought the exact same thing.”

“So… I propose an alliance,” she stared at him with a grave look in her eyes. 

“Seriously?” He snorted. 

“Nevermind,” she spoke quickly. 

“Say yes!” Walsh barked in his ear.

“No, wait. I’ll do it,” he quickly changed his tone. “It’s a good idea. Since everyone else is forming their own cliques… sure.”

“Ok. Good,” she nodded. “Here,” she extended her right arm.

“Really?”

“Shake on it.”

“Fine,” he shook her hand. “So… is that it? I don’t want to get eaten out here.”

“Yep. We’re voting for Katie tonight. If we lose, that is.”

“Fine by me.”

They returned to camp before Harold and DJ. Bridgette had finished with the tent, and Tyler and Geoff were trying to build a fire. 

“Nothing from Katie or Sadie?” Courtney asked.

“Nope,” Geoff rubbed a few sticks together. “Did you find any water?”

“No _clean_ water,” Courtney answered. 

“Sure you know what you’re doing?” Bridgette asked Geoff, voice full of doubt.

“Oh, totally,” Geoff answered, despite the fact he obviously had no idea what he was doing. Duncan cleared a space on a dry spot of land and sat down.

_An alliance with Courtney… is that basically a relationship? No, right? She would have explicitly said if we were dating. Wait… does this count as cheating on my possible boyfriend? I don’t think so… I mean, he might not even exist. This whole thing could be a huge miscalculation. It’s probably fine._

“We’re back!” DJ announced his presence as he emerged from the bushes, Harold by his side. He was holding something in his arms. 

“Please tell me you found food?” Tyler asked, voice full of hope.

“I found this little guy!” DJ beamed as he held up a small bunny. 

“Hell yeah, rabbit stew!” Geoff cheered. 

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

“No way!” DJ shielded the rabbits ears from Geoff’s suggestion. “He’s my new pet. I’ve decided to name him Bunny.”

“So you guys didn’t find any food?” Tyler moped in disappointment. 

“Oh. No.”

“DJ, can you give me a hand with this fire?” Geoff asked, still working with the pile of sticks on the ground. 

“Sure! Duncan, can you hold onto Bunny?” DJ plopped the animal in Duncan’s lap. “Thanks!”

“Ah… no problem, man,” Duncan stared down at the rabbit. 

“Gross,” Courtney murmured. “It probably has a disease or something.”

Bunny looked up at Duncan with his beady, black eyes. 

“Hi,” Duncan didn’t know what to say to the creature. Bunny tilted his head at the sound of his voice. Figuring Bunny was confused as to how he got there, Duncan scratched behind his right ear. The rabbit kept staring at him.

Judging him. 

_You stupid fuck, you don’t know anything. You just got here, alright? Don’t act like you know anything about the situation. How can it be cheating when I don’t even know this person’s name? Or if they exist at all? Stop looking at me like that-_

“Duncan, can you get that thing out of here? I don’t want it to bite me,” Courtney inched away from him. 

_I can’t do this._

“I’m going for a walk,” he stood up and announced, Bunny cradled in his arms. 

“Can you help us with the fire?” DJ took Bunny from him. 

“It’s pouring out. The fire wouldn’t even last,” Duncan started to walk away. It was true. The rain was much heavier than before, and even though Duncan had a lighter in his pocket, it would be useless against the weather. 

“Wait, do you guys hear that?” Harold whispered. 

“What, Harold?” Courtney was clearly annoyed. 

“In the trees… everyone be quiet for a moment.”

Everybody froze, straining to hear whatever Harold was talking about. The sound of the pounding rain drowned out most noises. 

“Harold, buddy, I don’t hear anything,” Duncan was desperate to get out of there. 

“Huh,” Harold shrugged. “I guess I was-”

A large bear crashed through the trees, snarling at the campers. 

“Oh, fuck fuck fuck, nope, bye guys,” Tyler took off into the woods. 

Courtney started screaming, which only pissed the bear off. As it began to charge, the entire team scattered in different directions. Duncan could barely see through the rain, and the ground was slippery as all hell. Grabbing onto trees to propel himself forward, he moved as fast as possible, praying the bear didn’t maul him. 

_Fuck, it’s so cold out here… How long am I supposed to run for?_

He stepped into an especially deep puddle, and that pretty much forced him to stop and take a breath. If the bear got him, so be it. He looked around for any of his teammates, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“Duncan?” Walsh asked. “Are you alright?”

“Bear attack… We were all separated.”

“Do you want me to track your location?”

“What? You can do that?”

“Of course.”

“Weird. No. Don’t do that. I can’t be that far from anyone-”

“Duncan!” Courtney’s voice echoed from nearby. 

“Quick,” Walsh spoke into his ear. “She was right about voting off Katie or Sadie. Tyler and DJ were discussing the same thing last episode. Follow Courtney’s advice.”

“Um, alright.”

“There you are!” She smiled. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

“I think so… Your eyeliner is dripping down your face.”

Duncan pressed a hand to his eye and held it in front his face, watching as drops of black slid down his skin.

“Huh. Should’ve gone waterproof.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“No idea. Do you have the map?”

“It’s back at the camp… and probably destroyed by the rain.”

“I guess we should start walking, then?” He offered.

“And just pick a random direction?”

“Which way did you come from?”

“I think… there,” she pointed through the trees. “I go jogging around here all the time.”

“Then let’s start walking. May as well,” Duncan shrugged. “Lead the way?”

“She’s right,” Walsh explained through the earbuds. “That’s the way back. Good sense of direction.”

“There’s no way Katie or Sadie will find our team now,” Courtney mused.

“Easy targets,” Duncan tried to duck under any trees they passed to stay out of the rain. Based on his recent track record, he hadn’t been doing so well around water. 

“Exactly,” Courtney agreed. “It shouldn’t be a problem to vote one of them off. Oh, look, here we are,” she noted as they reached the campsite. “But our tent is completely destroyed.”

“So we’re sleeping on the floor, then,” Duncan accepted as he spread out on the dirt. 

“I guess so,” Courtney eyed the ground in disgust.

“I don’t mind,” Duncan really didn’t care. “Chris never said we had to put the tent together, or cook dinner. He just said we had to survive. So, let’s do it.”

He didn’t sleep much that night. Various team members finally made their way back to camp, and none of them managed to find food, so they all went to sleep tired and hungry. 

The second the sun rose, the Killer Bass tried to find Chris as fast as possible. 

“We’re here!” Geoff spotted him first, standing outside of the woods. “Chris, we made it!”

“And, the Killer Bass arrive first! Hang on… you’re missing someone. Where’s Katie and Sadie?” Chris eyed the team in suspicion. 

“They were eaten by wolves,” Courtney quickly covered for them. 

_Hang on… that’s actually kinda funny._

“It’s a darn shame,” Duncan shook his head.

“No, no,” Chris decided. “You need all of your teammates to win.”

“Chris!” Heather barked from the trees as she led her team out of the woods. “All of us are here! Can we still win?”

“Let’s see,” Chris counted her teammates in his head, “and… yep! You’re all here! The Screaming Gophers win the challenge! I didn’t mention this before, but you also won a bonus reward- a pizza party! Killer bass, head to the voting booth!”

The Gophers cheered in delight as the Bass shuffled to the booth in disappointment. By the time Katie and Sadie returned, it was too late to fix anything. Their fuck-up gave Duncan the perfect excuse to keep his promise and cote for Katie, who was eliminated later that night. 

Unfortunately, nobody could have prepared for the crying fit from Sadie that would ensue. 

“God, would somebody shut her up?” Geoff covered his ears at the campfire as Sadie began to wail. 

“Sadie, I know you’re upset,” Bridgette tried to reason with her, “but please calm down-”

She was cut off by another fit of wailing. 

“Katie! Oh, God, I can’t go on without you!”

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Gwen appeared, dragging her teammates behind her. 

“Wow, look at Gwen,” Duncan smiled, “coming to brag about her victory.”

“Hardly,” Gwen snorted, “I was just wondering if you wanted some of this? It’s from out pizza party,” she held out a plate of green jello with a gummy worm trapped inside. 

“Get that thing away from me!” DJ stood up and lunged far away from Gwen. 

“What?” Gwen looked at him in confusion. “It’s just jello. Courtney, do you want some?”

“No! I mean, no thank you,” Courtney smiled. “I don’t like green jello.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Gwen,” DJ apologized. “I thought it was a snake. I’m terrified of snakes.”

“It’s cool, DJ,” Gwen reassured him, “I’m scared of being buried alive.”

“I’m scared of mimes!” Trent added on, terrified of being left out of the conversation. 

Somehow, the conversation evolved into both sides sharing their darkest fears, which Duncan would never do. 

“What about you, Duncan?” Gwen smiled. “What are you scared of?”

“Me?”

“Don’t give her a real fear!” Walsh ordered. “The Marlboro Murderer could be watching, and he’ll use this fear to murder you!”

_How cheery… But I wouldn’t give away a real fear anyways. What do I say? I’m not saying water, or drowning… What have I been thinking about lately? That song. What was it? ‘Love Me Back To Life?’ The Céline Dion song._

“To be honest,” Dunca tried to look sheepish, “I’ve always been freaked out by those Céline Dion music store standees.”

“Uh, weird answer, but alright,” Walsh approved. 

“Are you joking?” Courtney rolled her eyes.

“Fine, Miss CIT. What are you scared of?”

“Nothing,” she declared. 

“Come on, Courtney,” Gwen teased. “Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“Nope,” Courtney doubled down. “I’m not afraid of anything. Really.”

Duncan couldn’t give a shit about this conversation. After a night of not sleeping, he couldn’t care less if some girl from the suburbs wanted to pretend like she wasn’t afraid of anything. 

Upon their return to the cabin, Duncan found a box of letters on his bed.

“Cool, more fan mail!” Bridgette beamed. 

_Fucking hell, we know what that means… Let’s just get this over with._

Duncan dug through the box, only looking for his name in red ink. Once he found what he was looking for, he took a breath and opened the letter, unfolding whatever mystery remained inside. 

> Hey, bro,  
>  I’ll be real, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore, only that I’m not supposed to talk to you, yeah? What’s that all about? Because everyone here’s all pissed off, but that doesn’t make sense to me, because you’re my boy! And I want you to still be my boy, capisci? But everyone’s pissed all the time, losing their goddamn minds, and I just don’t get it! Anyways, bro, I hope you get what’s going on so you can explain it to me, because I’m totally lost, alright? We good? I’ll talk to you later!

_Finally, we’re on the same page. I don’t know what’s going on either, man. At least this one I can understand._

He crumpled the paper and stuffed it into his pocket. It was one of those rare nights where he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

It’s possible sleeping in the mud and pouring rain with no food didn’t do wonders for his sleeping schedule.


	8. Militaster

A/N Hi everyone! I’ll jump right into the chapter. Next part out by Wednesday the latest. Enjoy!

Chapter 8

Militaster: Soldier without skill or ability. 

The sound of boots against concrete flooring echoed across the hallway, ricocheting so that it was impossible to tell exactly where they were coming from. Duncan didn’t need to see the source. He knew the they were behind him, chasing him, hunting him through an endless maze of locked doors and empty stairwells. 

_Fuck, fuck, keep moving, go, go…_

He knew he couldn’t keep running forever. The footsteps were already louder than they were just a moment ago. He wanted to turn around, but he couldn’t risk anything that would slow him down. In the end, It didn’t really matter. Anybody would’ve been able to catch him. Barely sleeping, barely eating… It wouldn’t take much to outrun him. 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt much when he hit the ground. His palms scraped against the rough concrete, but he quickly spun around so he could see whoever shoved him down to the ground. 

_Fine, if it’s just a beating, whatever. Take a few punches. Move on._

Once he caught a glimpse of the strangers shoes from his position on the floor, Duncan noticed something seemed off. Rather than the standard black sandals and white socks that all inmates were required to wear, this person wore black lace-up boots. 

_Wait… what the fuck? Who is this?_

Duncan strained his neck to see further, but past a pair of black pants, everything started to blur. He squinted his eyes to see, but fuzzy shapes overtook his vision. He caught a flash of silver and knew he was fucked. 

_Why aren’t I getting up? Why can’t I move?_

His attacker kicked him directly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and preventing any possibility of getting up. Duncan gasped for air, but his lungs refused to work. Unable to left his head from the cold, solid ground, Duncan could only watch as one of the boots stepped back and prepared to crash down on the side of his head.

_Move move move… Fuck, I’m gonna die here, where is everyone, where’s M-“_

“Duncan!”

“Wha-?” He sat up, flailing his arms, ripping the sheets off of his body and flinging them onto the side. 

“Dude, calm down!”

Duncan looked around in a panic, squinting through the darkness to see who was yelling at him. 

“Who’s there?” He called out, balling his fists. 

“Uh, me? Tyler? Jesus, dude, are you good?”

_Tyler… ah, fuck._

“Oh,” Duncan lowered his arms. “Sorry, man. What’s up?”

“Really? You were screaming in your sleep. The whole cabin’s awake.”

Duncan looked around to see the light coming through the window reflecting off his teammates eyes as they all stared at him from their beds. 

“Sorry guys,” he shrunk into his bed. 

_Shit, what did I say?_

“What were you dreaming about?” Tyler asked him, unwilling to drop the subject. 

“Um… I don’t remember. I guess I forgot.”

“Sure,” Geoff looked at him, clearly not believing a word he said. 

“Guys, Duncan doesn’t have to share his dream if he doesn’t want to,” DJ stood up for Duncan. “How about we all just go back to sleep?”

“It’s probably time to wake up anyways,” Tyler sighed. “Anyone have the time?”

“About noon,” Courtney mumbled into her pillow. 

“How’s that even possible?” Sadie complained from her bed. “It’s so dark in here.”

“Chris boarded up the windows instead of fixing them…We went to bed at five in the morning…What’s not to get?” Courtney yawned. 

“Fuck this, I’m going back to bed,” Geoff dove under his covers. 

“If you sleep longer now, you won’t be able to go to bed later tonight, and then you’ll be tired for the challenge tomorrow.”

“Oh my God, Courtney, I don’t give a fuck…” he started to drift off. 

“I’ll get up,” Duncan felt bad for waking up his entire team, and he knew he had to figure some shit out. 

“At least Chris let us sleep in,” Bridgette mused as she got out of bed, running her fingers through her hair. “And Courtney’s right, we should probably eat, at least.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Geoff leapt out of bed. 

“Seriously?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” Geoff shrugged. 

“I’ll come too,” Harold announced. “Food is fuel, you know.”

“You coming?” DJ asked Duncan, who was still sitting in bed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Duncan waved him off. “I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yup, all good. Really, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” DJ shrugged. “We’ll see you at breakfast.”

Duncan watched as his teammates left the cabin. The moment Courtney closed the door behind her, he let out a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. 

“Jesus fucking Christ…” he whispered under his breath as he looked at the mess of tangled sheets he threw on the ground. 

_That dream… I’ve never dreamt anything like that before. Was that the Marlboro Murderer? Is this what Dr. Cabot was talking about- memories slowly coming back to me? I thought he said my brain would block out that whole thing…Dr. Walterson did mention something about traumatic memories, right? But who’s to say that was even a memory? I could’ve made up that whole thing. Just a regular nightmare…_

When he pulled himself together and put the sheets back on his bed, he left to join his team for breakfast so they wouldn’t suspect anything. He opened the cabin door to find Courtney standing there. 

“Oh, hey. You didn’t get breakfast with everyone else?” He asked, trying not to seem surprised that she was there.

“I waited for you. Come on, we have some things to discuss,” she led him away from the cabin.

_Fuck, what does she want?_

“Sure. Thanks for waiting.”

“So…obviously, we need a new strategy.”

“Huh?” Duncan asked, unaware they had a strategy to begin with. 

“We’re not gonna vote for Sadie anymore. We can manipulate her later on to help us vote for someone else. Instead, we have to start voting off the stronger competitors. After this morning, obviously, playing defense isn’t an option…”

“What happened this morning?”

“Seriously?” She stopped walking and turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “You. You happened.”

“Me? I already said I was sorry for waking you guys up.”

“You have no idea how bad it was, then,” she shook her head. “I thought you were being murdered. It really freaked us all out.”

He took a moment to consider her words. 

“So what you’re saying is that you all want to vote me off, just because of a nightmare?”

“No, no, of course not,” she quickly started to walk again. “It’s just… you need to consider how you come across to other people.”

“And how do I ‘come across’?” He caught up to her. 

“Well, as your ally, I suppose I should tell you… you know, for the both of us. You always run off on your own, like during breakfast, for example.”

“So I like to be alone. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m just saying, you’re not a team player.”

“That’s ridiculous. Of course I’m a team player. I stayed awake for three days, didn’t I?”

“You’re off in your own world,” she shrugged. “Like the rest of us aren’t even here. People notice that.”

“Oh, don’t turn this into some sort of psychological profile, Courtney. You have issues too, you know.”

_Just like her to pull this shit, think she’s better than me and tell me how I should act._

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shit, I can’t even get mad at her, or that will ruin the whole act. God forbid she tells everyone I yelled at her, and I’m out of here for sure. God, I hate this so much. 

“So who are we supposed to vote for?” Duncan tried to change the subject.

“Geoff is distracted by Bridgette right now, but he’s also a strong player. On the other hand, Tyler doesn’t have any enemies, so it’ll be hard to get rid of him later on...”

“Tyler would be easier,” Duncan decided. “Tyler would never vote for Geoff, but we could convince Geoff to vote for Tyler.”

“Fine,” Courtney agreed. 

“But Geoff kind of annoys me….”

“We can use him by proxy. If we can convince Bridgette to vote for someone later on, he’ll join her. We’re better off keeping him around. Speaking of, Bridgette wants Tyler out of the way so she can get closer to Geoff, and Geoff would vote for Tyler so he’ll stop third wheeling. Also, Sadie is totally lost without Katie, so she’s desperate to make friends with other girls. Voting off a guy is in her best interest.” 

_She does her research, I’ll give her that._

“Fine, whatever. Harold’s a wild card, Sadie shouldn’t be too bad, I don’t know about Bridgette, DJ will be impossible just because he’s so damn nice…” Duncan mused. “I don’t know what to do about him.”

“Let’s just focus on Tyler for now. Then, we can break up Bridgette and Geoff,” she had a devious smile. 

“Not a fan of romance?”

“I play to win, remember?” 

“Alright, I respect it,” they reached the mess hall. He opened the door for her. “Ladies first?” He offered. 

“How chivalrous.”

“See? I have some positive traits.”

“Hardly,” she walked through the doorway to find the rest of the team already sitting down. “Hi, everyone!” She smiled. 

Duncan sat down wordlessly, waving to his teammates and psyching himself up for a mediocre breakfast that he would only half-eat. 

“Look who’s finally joining us for breakfast!” Geoff clapped his shoulder. “About time!”

“Ah...yep. Here I am,” Duncan hoped nobody would talk about the fact that he never showed up. 

“Hey, how long do you have to keep those bandages on for?” Geoff asked him. “Every time I touch your arm I’m scared I’ll rip it off.”

_Fuck, that’s an even worse topic of discussion._

“Oh, you know, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt or anything…”

“What’d you do again?” Tyler asked through a mouthful of oatmeal. On his left, Duncan noted Bridgette looked away at the sight of Tyler chewing with his mouth open. 

“Wait, did you ever tell us?” Sadie leaned forward, intent on hearing the story. 

_See, this is exactly why I don’t eat breakfast with these fucking people._

“Pulled a muscle. Nothing crazy. I’m gonna get some breakfast,” he stood up and walked over to the counter, where Chef stood over a stove. He wasn’t actually hungry, but he’d do anything to avoid further explaining his injury. 

“Hey, kid,” Chef didn’t even look up at him. 

“Hi, Chef.”

“You sound like you’re having fun. Want some oatmeal?”

“Not really.”

Chef dropped whatever he was doing to glare at Duncan, pissed at the fact he didn’t want any oatmeal. 

“Why not? You think my cooking’s bad?”

“No! No.. not at all!” Duncan backed away. “Sure, I’ll take some oatmeal.”

“That’s what I thought,” Chef smiled, sliding a bowl of strange looking oatmeal across the counter towards him. Duncan didn’t feel like sitting down with the rest of his teammates, so he just stood there, watching Chef at the stove. 

“Whatcha making?”

“That Noah kid threatened to sue us if we didn’t have any food for him, so I gotta stand here and scramble some eggs. I swear, this kid is allergic to everything. Peanuts, tree-nuts, seafood, gluten…But I don’t think you care. You just don’t want to sit with those guys,” he nodded towards his teammates, who were engrossed in a conversation Duncan didn’t feel like joining. 

“Was it that obvious?”

“Listen, kid. I know Chris has been giving you a hard time with those letters.”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck.”

“That’s it?”

“What? You thought I was going to give you advice? That’s not my job. Go eat your breakfast.”

“Oh.”

Chef turned back to the stove, signaling the conversation was over. Duncan took his bowl of oatmeal and forced himself to walk back to the table with his team. Sitting down between Courtney and Bridgette, he plastered a smile on his face and focused on Geoff, who was telling a story he couldn’t care less about. 

_Just sit here for a little while… Show that you care about this team… Nod your head, smile, wow, Geoff, what a great story! That’s some interesting! Fuck, can I leave now?_

Finally, everybody decided they were done with their breakfast (lunch? It was past 1pm), which gave Duncan the perfect opportunity to escape. After all, he had another letter stuffed in his pocket, and Chris would no doubt try to track him down. 

“I’ll see you guys back at the cabin,” he figured he would at least say goodbye, just so Courtney wouldn’t bitch about him leaving without saying anything. 

“Where ya goin’?” Geoff asked. 

“Out. For a walk. To clear my head.”

“Have fun,” DJ waved. 

“Will do.”

Relieved to break away, Duncan started to walk as fast possible the moment he left the mess hall, just in case anybody tried to join him. When he was sure he was alone, he veered into the woods, savoring his few minutes alone until Chris inevitably-

“I cannot believe I’m letting you get away with that bullshit Céline Dion answer.”

“Hey, Chris.”

“Seriously? Céline? You couldn’t come up with anything more convincing?” Chris batted a bush out of the way and walked up to Duncan, who was leaning against a tree. 

“I happen to find her very intimidating,” Duncan crossed his arms.

“Oh, bullshit. No way that’s your greatest fear. Serial killer bait scared of Céline Dion?”

“Why’s it matter?” Duncan tried not to think about Chris’ comments. 

“I’m not telling. Just be ready to live up to it, that’s all.”

“Fine. I will. Here,” he dug into his pocket and handed Chris the letter. “This is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Chris’ eyes lit up as he fervently unfolded the paper. 

“Duncan, I’m obsessed with this drama, just so you know. I fucking love this shit,” he scanned the words on the page. “Ooh, this one is so weird. I don’t even know what to say. It’s so unlike the other ones. What do you think?”

“I dunno,” Duncan slid against the tree, sitting on the forest floor. “At least he doesn’t know what’s going on either.”

“But he’s out of the loop… They don’t tell him anything. Just that he shouldn’t talk to you. But he’s not invested in the drama like the others…”

“Yeah, cause he’s my boy.”

“Right, what’s that mean?”

“Like, you know. He’s my bro. But a close bro. My boy.”

“Yeahhh… good luck with that. Doesn’t seem like the brightest,” Chris handed back the letter. 

“So what else?”

“What do you mean?”

“About the letter.”

“Oh. No idea. He knows as much we do. Can’t you get somebody useful to write a letter?”

“I don’t know, I can’t control who writes this stuff.”

“But they’re so boring now!” Chris complained. 

“I thought you said you loved the drama!”

“I do! I do love the drama! But I need it to be more dramatic.”

“Well, I’m sorry this group of strangers isn’t giving you interesting reading material.”

“It’s fine,” Chris accepted the apology as the sarcasm flew over his head. “I know you’re trying your best. Just try harder, alright?”

“I’m sure this whole Courtney mess will get some letters.”

“What, you’re still thinking about that?” Chris sat down next to Duncan. “I thought you moved past it.”

“Yeah, I did too. But now with these letters, I feel bad, you know?”

“Why?”

“Well, isn’t this cheating?”

“No. What? What are you even talking about? You don’t even know these people, or if you dated one of them.”

“Still feels wrong, though, no?”

“Fuck that. That’s a you problem. You’re reading into this wayyy too much.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re worrying for nothing. Fuck the letters, focus on Courtney. She’s actually here. We don’t know who these people are. This could be an elaborate prank. They could live in another country for all you know.”

“Alright… yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right,” Chris stood up. “Stop bitching about it. Seriously, it’s annoying. If you’re that worried, hand the letters over to the police.”

“Eh…”

“See? Then it’s not that big of a deal. I gotta go work on tomorrow’s challenge, alright? Get your shit sorted,” he began to walk away. 

“Uh, bye, Chris!” Duncan put the letter back in his pocket.

“Yep.”

_What a shitshow…But he’s probably right. I could be freaking out over nothing. Yeah…I need to stay in the game. That’s priority number one. If Courtney is the way to get there, then so be it._

He left the woods and decided to spend time with his team back at the cabin, just so they wouldn’t think he was a complete loner. 

The rest of the day passed without any major incident. Duncan remembered what Chris told him and pushed any feelings of guilt aside. Hanging out with his team wasn’t _that_ torturous. Everybody was still tired from their near all-nighter, so they hung out in the cabin for a while. Most of them fell asleep early. 

Duncan was nervous he’d wake up his teammates with another nightmare, and normally, he’d be up all night thinking. 

Thankfully, going to bed at five in the morning meant it was a rare occurrence where he fell asleep not too long after the rest of the team, and lucky for him, he didn’t dream that night. 

“Good morning, campers! Meet me outside for your next challenge! And get ready to be scared… heh heh!”

“Oh, I don’t like that,” Sadie clutched her pillow. “Why should we be scared?”

“It’s Chris,” Courtney slid out of bed. “He’s probably just messing with us.”

_Huh… he did tell me I had to live up to the Céline Dion thing…_

“Alright, everybody!” Chris announced once all of the campers were gathered outside. “Today, you will all be facing your greatest fears!”

“Oh, like on Fear Factor!” Trent smiled. 

“Come on, Trent, seriously?” Chris asked, clearly annoyed. “You know they trademarked that show. Now we’re gonna get sued. Made sure we edit that out! Anyways… You will all be facing your greatest fear! For every person to conquer your fear, your team earns a point!”

“How are you supposed to know our greatest fears?” Heather asked him. 

“You announced them a few nights ago. Or did you all forget you were on TV?”

“They were recording that?”  
“Shoot, he’s right…”  
“Wait, we’re on TV?”

Murmurs of confusion among the campers revealed they had no idea Chris was watching them when they revealed their fears. 

“Hang on, the other team has nine chances to win, but we only have eight,” Courtney observed. “That’s not fair.”

“Not my problem! Now, Heather, you’re up first! Come with me to the stage, you’ve got a meeting with a sumo wrestler!”

“You can’t be serious,” Heather laughed. “No way.”

“I’m dead serious. Let’s go. Unless you want to surrender your turn?”

“No, no! I’ll go.”

“Good. Follow me.”

Chris lead Heather away from the cabins. Without their de facto leader, the Screaming Gophers looked at each other, having no idea what they were supposed to do. 

“We should go with her,” Gwen sighed. “I guess.”

“Yeah,” Noah kicked at the ground. 

“Don’t worry, Heather! We’re on our way!” Lindsay cheered. As she started to run after Heather, she spotted Tyler staring at her. “Oh my God, hi, Taylor! Good luck on your challenge!” She changed directions and gave Tyler a hug before leaving to follow the rest of her team.

“Aw, thanks, babe!” He called after her. 

“Dude, did she call you the wrong name?” Geoff asked him. 

“Just roll with it, bro.”

“Alright, everyone, we should totally stick together so we can support each other!” Sadie decided. 

“It’s kind of added pressure, no?” DJ looked nervous. “I mean, not that I’ll fail, but snakes are just-“

“DJ! You’re up next! Come down to the mess hall! And Killer Bass, Heather won her challenge! The score is 1-0!”

“Oh my God,” DJ wheezed. “I can’t-“

“Come on, DJ,” Geoff ordered. “We’ll go with you. Right, guys?” He glared at the rest of his team members. 

“Oh, sure,” Duncan agreed. 

“Yeah, DJ!” Sadie cheered. 

“Let’s go,” Geoff started to walk towards the mess hall. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad. Chris can’t put you in actual danger- he’ll get sued.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure.”

_Is Chris going to bring Céline Dion here? There’s no way she’d agree to that. But whatever he does, I’ll have to pretend to be terrified._

“Look who’s here!” Chris announced once the Killer Bass reached the mess hall. “And you brought your team with you! Half of the Gophers had to practically be dragged to support Heather. Alright, DJ, step up.”

“You got this, king,” Tyler whispered. 

“Hang on,” DJ reached into his pocket and fished out Bunny, who was taking a nap. “Take him, please. Make sure he’s alright,” he gave Bunny to Bridgette.

“Aw, how cute!” She stroked his ears. 

“Ok, I’m ready, Chris,” DJ took a deep breath and stepped up. 

“Chef! Bring out the snake!” Chris demanded. Clearly irritated that Chris yelled at him, Chef appeared from the mess hall holding a cage with a tiny snake. 

“Oh, I’m gonna faint,” DJ sealed his eyes shut. 

“DJ, your challenge is to pick up this snake!” Chris opened the cage door. 

“Look, it’s like a little worm!” Bridgette was delighted with the snakes’ small stature. 

“I can’t do this-“

“Yes you can, dude,” Geoff encouraged him. 

_Geoff is being so nice… Oh, I get it. If DJ conquers his fear, that’s less pressure on the rest of us to conquer ours. It’s in our best interest for our teammates to do well._

“DJ, I don’t think it even has teeth,” Duncan looked doubtfully at the snake. “For real. It’ll fit in the palm of your hand.”

“DJ, you know very few species of snakes are actually poisonous,” Harold explained. “This one can’t actually hurt you.”

“Come on, DJ, we know you can do it!” Sadie yelled. 

DJ stood there, staring at the snake, who seemed completely uninterested in him. 

“Forget this…” Courtney murmured under her breath. She marched up to DJ and stood right in front of him. “DJ, listen up! Do you want us to lose this challenge? Do you want that?”

“No-“

“Then pick up the snake! Look at it!” She stepped out of the way so he could see. “It’s a worm! It’s so tiny! Don’t let this little thing ruin the challenge for the rest of us!”

“Fine,” DJ, clearly feeling guilty about causing any trouble for anybody, took a step closer to the snake, who sat in his cage. “Um, hey, come here, pal. I’m just picking you up for a moment, alright?” He inched closer to the snake, who stuck his tongue out. “Alright, see? I’m sure you’re very friendly…”

In a fast scoop, DJ cupped the snake in his hands. 

“And, DJ wins the point!” Chris announced. 

“Nice job, DJ!” Tyler congratulated him. 

“Ok, let’s put you down… there,” DJ set the snake on the ground, who then quietly slithered away. 

“Bridgette, you’re up next!” Chris smiled. “Scared of being alone in the woods, right? Take your best shot,” he gestured towards the woods near the mess hall. 

“What?” She crossed her arms, trying not to appear nervous. “You want me to just walk in there?”

“In order to earn your team’s point, you have to stay in the woods alone for six hours. You can’t contact anybody, and you can’t leave the woods at any point. Think you can do it?”

“Sure. No problem,” she bit her lip. 

“Yeah Bridgette!” Geoff cheered her on. 

“Bye, guys,” she handed Bunny back to DJ and waved weakly as she walked towards the woods, disappearing behind the trees. 

“Lindsay and Sadie, you’re up next! Meet me in the girls bathroom near the mess hall! And to all the girls… get out of the bathroom near the mess hall if you’re in there! I don’t want a lawsuit!” Chris screamed into his megaphone as his voice echoed throughout the camp. “And the score is tied 1-1!”

“Wait, what!?” Sadie cried. “Why do I have to go next?”

“You can always forfeit!”  
“No way!”

“Then come with me! And Harold… in advance, your challenge will be to defeat a ninja. I’m not telling you when, of course. That would defeat the point!”

“Understood,” Harold accepted his fate. 

“Guys,” Sadie turned to her teammates, tears in her eyes. “Don’t come with me. It’s no offense. I just… I can’t have anyone watch when I get this haircut. It’s too embarrassing.”

“It’s alright, Sadie,” Courtney gave her arm a squeeze. “None of us will judge you for your haircut.”

“Promise?”

“Of course! It’ll be ok.”

_She’s trying to win her over…_

“Sadie, you coming?” Chris barked. 

“Yup! Bye, guys,” Sadie gave Courtney a hug. 

“Awe, don’t worry, Sadie. Everything will work out.”

Sadie left the rest of her teammates to follow Chris for a presumably terrible haircut. 

“Hey, great job, DJ,” Duncan offered his congratulations, figuring he might as well schmooze. 

“Thanks,” DJ beamed as he stroked Bunny’s fur. “What are your fears, again?”

“Hail,” Geoff shuddered at the thought. “It’s dangerous.”

“Chickens. They pluck your eyes out and shit,” Tyler shook his head. 

_See, that makes no sense to me… Chickens?_

“What about you, Duncan?” Geoff asked him. 

“Ah… it’s kind of weird, but Céline Dion music store standees.”

“Dude. That is weird. And Harold, you’re scared of ninjas?”

“Which is why I always need to be vigilant…” Harold looked over his shoulder. “Actually, it’s probably not safe for you guys here. I should leave.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we can help you?” Tyler offered. 

“I must do this alone,” Harold insisted. “Goodbye. For now. Hopefully not forever.” He turned on his heel and left the group. 

“There he goes…” Tyler watched him leave. 

“And, Beth conquers her fear, bringing the score to 2-1 Gophers!” Chris’ voice echoed. 

“Damnit,” Geoff swore. 

“Hi, guys,” Sadie reappeared wearing a grimy brown wig, makeup running down her face. “Please, tell me, is it that bad?”

“No,” Courtney tried to convince her. “Um, of course not! It’s not that bad. Really. I would tell you. How long do you have to wear it for?”

“Four hours,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes. When she looked at her hands, she saw the smudges of black eyeliner smeared across her fingers. “Shit, I’ll have to reapply that…”

_Well, here’s my chance to be a suck-up._

“Here, take mine,” he dug his eyeliner out from his pocket and offered it to Sadie, who stared at him like he was a wild animal. 

“Where did you get that?”

“It’s mine. I’m letting you borrow it.”

“Oh,” she took the eyeliner in her hands. “Um, thanks!”

“Dude, why do you have that?” Geoff asked, completely bewildered.

“To wear?”

“Why would you wear eyeliner?”

“Brings out the color of my eyes?”

“Oh.”

“Nah, bro,” Tyler tried to explain. “It’s part of the aesthetic. Like, the whole punk look?”

“Oh, I get it, bro. You gotta complete the look.”

“Exactly, bro.”

“Well, I like it, Duncan,” DJ approved.  
“Thanks, DJ.”

“And, Heather has completed her challenge, making the score 3-1 Gophers!” Chris announced. 

All of the sudden, the Killer Bass heard a deafening scream coming from somewhere nearby. 

“And, the ninja has found Harold! It’s not sounding too good for him… And he’s been knocked out! Meaning the score is still 3-1 Gophers!” Chris added on. 

“Oh, Harold,” Sadie shook her head. 

“It’s alright,” Courtney did the math. “We can still win. You guys just have to stay focused an conquering your fears.”

“Easy for you to say,” Geoff crossed his arms. 

“Alright, Duncan!” Chris found the Bass huddled around the mess hall. “You’re up next!”

“Ah, really?”

“Yep! Follow me!”

_Shit, what am I supposed to do? Just act scared? Wait… I don’t even know what Céline Dion looks like. Oh, I’m fucked._

“Don’t worry, man,” DJ reassured him. “We’ll be right with you the whole time.”

“Oh. Thanks, guys,” Duncan followed Chris to the other side of the building, where he stood in front of an object covered with a tarp. 

_Alright, time for the performance of a lifetime._

“Duncan!” Chris caught everybody’s attention. “Here we have… your greatest fear!” He yanked away the tarp to reveal what Duncan could only guess was a life-size cardboard cutout of Céline Dion.

“Oh my God,” Duncan took a step back, clutching onto Courtney’s arm. 

“For your challenge… you have to hug her!”

“No way, man. Not happening,” Duncan shook his head. 

“Duncan, listen to me,” Courtney held onto his shoulders. “I know you can do this.”

“Just look at her! I can feel her staring at me!”

“She’s not real, bro,” Geoff shook his head. “It’s just a piece of cardboard.”

“Come on, Duncan,” Courtney brought her face right up to his. 

_What the fuck is she doing?_

“I believe in you.”

“Fine,” he sighed. Stepping back, he glanced at Céline. Taking a breath, he ran up to her, gave her a hug, and then ran back. 

“And, Duncan wins it!” Chris announced. “The score is 3-2 Gophers!”

“Yes!” Courtney hugged him. “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks, Courtney,” he grinned as he hugged her back. 

_Good. She bought it._

“But you know,” she stepped back and cleared her throat, “I believe in the rest of you, too.”

Chris spent the next few challenges with the Gophers. Owen and Noah both managed to conquer their fears, while Leshawna and Cody failed theirs. Bridgette broke her seclusion in the woods, which lost the point for her team. Sadie and Lindsay survived their time with the wigs, winning a point for each team. 

“Alright, Geoff, you’re up next! Come down to the beach when you’re ready!” Chris announced through the loudspeaker. 

“Oh, fuck,” Geoff muttered. “This blows,” he followed his team to the beach. “I hate hail.”

“It won’t be that bad, Geoff,” Harold reassured him. “It’s geographically impossible for Chris to put real hail on this island.”

“Welcome, Killer Bass!” Chris stood in the sand. “Geoff, I hope you’re ready! All you have to do is lie in that beach chair,” he gestured to a nearby lawn chair, “while we pour hail on you for two full minutes! You can’t get up or run away!”

“Oh, fine,” Geoff sat on the chair. “Just do it. Get it over with.”

“Intern!” Chris ordered. A couple of disheveled interns appeared from behind the trees holding a few buckets of hail. “Your time starts… now!”

“Bunny, stop eating that,” DJ scolded. “It’s not good for you.”

“What is it?” Bridgette wanted to know.

“Just a cigarette butt he found back in the woods.”

“Hey guys. Whatcha doin’?” Trent walked up to the Killer Bass. 

“Trent! You got rid of the mime?” Chris noted. “Trent won his challenge! The score is 7-4 Gophers!”

“Chris is burying Geoff in hail,” Courtney explained. 

“Burying… oh my God, I left Gwen buried underground.”

_Oh, gotta take advantage._

“What do you mean?” Duncan feigned complete innocence. “You just left her there? Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

“No, no, it was an accident-“

“How do leave your girlfriend buried underground on accident?”

“I don’t- I mean- I gotta go…” Trent ran in the opposite direction in a complete panic. 

“Oh!” Chris realized. “Gwen reached five minutes! The score is Gophers 8-4! Geoff, you’re halfway there!”

“Halfway?” Geoff’s voice was muffled by the hail. “Nope. No way. Sorry, guys,” he stood up and ran away from the hail. “I’m not touching that shit any more!”

“And Geoff fails his challenge! The score is still 8-4 Gophers! Tyler, you’re up next!”

“Me? But there’s no way we can win.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that. I’d still try if I were you.”

“Oh, fine…” Tyler sighed. “I’ll do it.”

“Great!” Chris beamed. “Follow me!”

The moment Tyler saw what his challenge would be, Duncan knew he had no chance. Chris wanted him to stay in a pen with an entire crowd of chickens for three minutes. By this point, the Screaming Gophers had finished their challenges, so they were all there to watch. Everybody else teased him for it, but since Duncan didn’t give a real fear to begin with, he felt bad saying anything. 

“Alright, Tyler, get in there!” Chris shoved him into the pen. 

“Oh, man,” Tyler was paralyzed in fear as he stared at the chickens. “I don’t…”

All of the sudden, a wave of chickens ran towards him, clicking and bobbing their demonic heads. Tyler shrieked and jumped over the fence. 

“And, Tyler loses the point!”

“Great, so we lost…” Courtney sighed. 

“Well, there’s one person who hasn’t gone yet!” Chris smiled. 

“What do you mean?”

“You!”

“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t give a fear,” Courtney insisted. 

“Don’t think we didn’t notice your aversion to green jello? The cameras see everything, you know.”

“I’m not scared of green jello, and even if I were, we’d still be nowhere close to winning.”

“How about this,” Chris had a mischievous look in his eyes. “If you complete this challenge, your team wins.”

“What?” Heather was outraged. “How is that fair?”

“I don’t care, Heather! So, Courtney, what do you say?”

“You have to take it, Courtney,” Bridgette urged her. 

“At least see what is it?” DJ offered. 

“Fine. I’ll take your deal.”

“Excellent! Come with me!” Chris was practically glowing. 

“This whole thing Is ridiculous,” Courtney insisted as both teams followed Chris to the mess hall. “What am I even supposed to…” she trailed off as she saw what Chris was talking about. He had set up a tall diving board with a pool of green jello. 

“Here’s your challenge, Courtney! Jump off of this diving board into the jello below!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Courtney looked at the set up in disbelief. 

“Nope!”

_No way is she going to do this._

“Hey, it’s alright,” he tried to reassure her. “I mean-“

“I’ll do it.”

“Alright!” Chris announced to the crowd. “Go for it.”

Courtney took a breath and stalked over to the ladder of the diving board, climbing up each rung. Once she reached the top, she peered over the edge and looked down at the jello in disgust. If he looked closely, he could see the outline of her body shaking ever so slightly. 

_She’s terrified…_

Back on the ground, the Gophers started to jeer. 

“Better be careful, Courtney! Doesn’t that jello look like snot from up there?” Gwen teased. 

“Hey, not cool,” Duncan glared at her. 

“What? It’s a competition,” Gwen shrugged. 

“She’s obviously scared, you don’t have to make it worse. At least you didn’t have to do your challenge in front of everyone.”

“Whatever, dude. I didn’t realize you were Courtney’s spokesperson now.”

_Hit her where it hurts. Fuck it. Don’t hold back. Fuck her. She doesn’t know you._

“I’m not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make this a whole thing. You’re right, it’s a competition.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Gwen smiled. 

“Also, sorry about the whole thing with Trent forgetting you like that. I thought you guys were dating?”

“No, we are…”

“But isn’t being buried alive your biggest fear? And he just forgot you were there?”

“Yep,” she looked genuinely sad.

“Yikes.”

“I know. I’m sure he didn’t mean it…”

“Oh, of course not. Trent’s a great guy, I’m sure.”

In the end, Courtney wouldn’t jump. Honestly, Duncan didn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure how hugging a cardboard cutout was supposed to be the same as performing a dangerous stunt in front of the entire cast, but obviously Chris wasn’t taking any questions. 

_And maybe if I gave my real fear, who knows if I would’ve won this challenge? I probably would’ve said drowning, so would Chris have just thrown me in the lake to die? I almost drowned during the first challenge anyways._

“The Gophers win the challenge! Killer Bass, you’ll be voting later tonight!”

Courtney didn’t say a word on the way back to the cabin. Duncan knew she was hard on herself, so the moment she reached the cabin, she put on her sneakers and went for a jog. 

“Wait, Courtney!” He tried to catch up with her.

“What?” She was clearly annoyed. 

“What are we doing about tonight?”

“I don’t care.”

“What do you mean? What about your plans?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “I lost the challenge for our entire team, didn’t I? I’m guaranteed to be voted out.”

“Wait-“

She wouldn’t listen to him. Needless to say, it fell to him to convince enough people to vote for Tyler. 

_There’s no way I can get through to Courtney when she’s like this… Now who’s the one not pulling their weight? Let’s see… If we both vote for Tyler, that’s two against him. DJ is too nice to convince, and I don’t know about Harold, but I think I can manage Sadie and Bridgette… that’s four. Bridgette should be able to talk to Geoff…It might be enough._

“Hey, Duncan!” Sadie called his name as he walked back to the cabin. “Here’s your eyeliner!”

“Oh, thanks, Sadie,” he put it back in his pocket. “Listen, walk with me for a moment, alright?”

“Hmm? Sure! What’s up?”

“Listen, promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course!” Her eyes were wide, delighted to be in on a secret. “What’s going on?”

“Who do you plan on voting for tonight?”

“Ooh, I don’t really know…”

_She wants to make more friends, right? I’ll tell her everyone’s in on it._

“Well, look. Me, Courtney, Bridgette, and Geoff are all planning on voting for Tyler. Courtney wanted me to let you in on it.”

“Wow, really?” She was delighted. 

“Yes, but you can’t say anything to anyone, alright? We can’t risk Tyler hearing about it.”

“Ok I won’t! Promise.”

“Good. And I’m glad the eyeliner held up. It looks good.”

“Aw, thanks!” She blushed. 

_Perfect, hopefully she believed that. Now, I just need to talk to Bridgette…_

He opened the cabin door to find Bridgette, Geoff, Tyler, DJ, and Harold all sitting inside. 

_Great, how am I supposed to get her alone? Just wait for her to leave like some sort of creep?_

As it turns out, that’s exactly what he had to do. After an hour or so, Bridgette left the cabin to go to the bathroom. Duncan waited a minute or so and followed her out. 

“Hey, Bridgette!” He hoped she wasn’t completely weirded out by the fact that he was following her. 

“Hey, Duncan! How’s Courtney?”

“Ah, not good… A mess, actually. She feels really bad about the whole thing.”

“Me too! I mean, I feel bad I didn’t conquer my fear, and I feel bad that she didn’t conquer her fear, I just feel bad for everyone!”

“Exactly! She went running, you know, I think she’s just really worried about being voted off tonight…”

“Really? No way!”

“Well, I know me, her, and Sadie are all voting for Tyler, but she thinks everyone else is gonna vote for her.”

“Nah…” Bridgette paused for a moment. “I’ll vote for Tyler.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I mean, scared of chickens? Come on!”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right weird.”

“Tell Courtney not to worry. Seriously!” Bridgette continued her walk to the bathroom. 

_Hopefully she’ll talk to Geoff, and then we’re definitely all set. But even if she doesn’t, Courtney still has a good chance of staying in the game._

It was the first time Duncan was at all nervous for the elimination ceremony. He knew the police and Chris would work to keep him in the game, but Courtney didn’t have that kind of insurance. She still refused to talk when they sat around the campfire. 

“Good evening, campers! Today, you all had to face your deepest fears! Some of you did much better than others, and in the end, the Screaming Gophers won the challenge in a landslide victory! Now, the following campers are safe! Duncan, Bridgette, DJ, Harold, Sadie, and Geoff! And the last camper to receive a marshmallow is… Courtney!” She appeared visibly shocked to have a marshmallow in her hands. “Tyler, you’re going home!”

“Aw, man…” he stood up and walked over to the Dock of Shame. 

“Taylor! No… Tyler!” Lyndsay stood up and ran over, giving him a final hug. “Goodbye! Make sure to call me!”

“Of course, babe!” He beamed. “You know I’ll call you!”

_Eh, maybe._

“Bye, everyone!” He waved to his teammates as the boat sped away. 

“Will the Killer Bass make a comeback? Or will the Screaming Gophers win another challenge? Find out next time on Total… Drama… Island!”

Hardly anybody spoke on the way back to the cabin. Tyler was usually the one to start conversations, and without him there, it felt like a part of the team was missing. 

_This is the first time we voted off a member of the inner-circle… Let’s be real, nobody gave a shit about Eva or Ezekiel, but Tyler? He was popular._

“Well, good night, guys,” Geoff shoved aside the box of letters on his bed and sunk into his mattress. 

_He obviously didn’t vote for Tyler… Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s see who we’re dealing with tonight._

After finding the only letter he cared about, Duncan discarded the others and opened the envelope.

> Duncan,   
> Hello! At last, I have been able to write to you! Here I am! The others say I can’t use my name, and believe me, I tell them that’s completely ridiculous! Apparently _someone_ is convinced you called the police, and I told him you were way too much of a softie to ever do that. But, alas! I will deal with it for now.   
> I hope you are well? Everything is a total disaster here. Also, did you say that you were scared of Céline Dion? When you _know_ that, ah, I can’t say his name… well, you already know! He _loves_ Céline Dion! I am hoping you are not rubbing salt in the wound of you faking your death and also bashing one of his favorite musical artists :( Very disappointing! You better sort this out soon. I cannot take much more of this chaos, da? 

_Why did I think this one would make sense? They never make sense…Never, never, never._

“Yeah, good night, guys,” Duncan announced as he prepared for another long, sleepless night.


	9. Aboulomania

A/N Hi everyone! Just a heads up, I am planning on splitting this story into parts (not sure how many yet). Basically, there’s a few chapters left in part one, and then I’m getting a head start on writing more chapters, and then I’ll start posting part two. At the moment, I’m posting chapters the moment I finish writing them, but that’s not sustainable when school starts up, so I have to write a few chapters in advance so I can post throughout the Fall. For an exact time frame, I will post the last chapter of part one in late August, and I will start posting part two by October 1st. Hold me to it. For now, the next chapter will be out by Monday. Enjoy. 

Chapter Nine

Aboulomania: Pathological indecisiveness. 

“I miss Tyler,” Sadie complained from her bed the next morning, as if she didn’t vote him off the night before. 

“I know, man,” Geoff examined his hat in his hands. “It totally sucks.”

_Let’s see, do I have to go to breakfast? I already went for two mornings in a row. That’s a record for me. Maybe I can pretend that I’m too distraught about Tyler to eat? Fake some sort of breakdown? Nah, I can only do that once. I need to save it for something big._

“We should use this as motivation,” Courtney declared. “You know, so we don’t lose another challenge. Just think. That could be any one of us on that boat next time,” she threatened. 

_I wonder how she’s holding up after last night… She was some upset over that whole jello thing. I should talk to her about it._

“Yo, Duncan,” Geoff whispered. 

“Yeah?”

“After breakfast, I need your help with something. You in?”

_Fuck, now how am I supposed to get out of breakfast? And I have another letter to look at… no. Stop. We’re done with that. No more letters. Focus on your team. Focus on Courtney. Forget whatever’s happening in the letters. It doesn’t matter._

“Sure, man. What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he glanced towards Bridgette. “It’s just something important.”

_Oh, Jesus Christ. Not this. Well, maybe it will be fun… Ah, fuck. I can’t even convince myself._

“Ah, I gotcha,” Duncan smiled. “Sure, man. You know I’m all over that shit.”

“Cool, cool. DJ’s gonna be there too. You know, three heads are better than one and all that shit.”

So Duncan couldn’t get out of breakfast, which meant he wouldn’t be able to dissect his newest letter with Chris. It was probably for the better. He needed to get his mind off the letters entirely, and talking to Chris would only make him think about it more. 

_I’m sure he’ll bitch at me about missing out on the drama… but he’s the one who said the letters were boring. He’ll survive. This one seems fairly similar to the last one. Whoever wrote it didn’t reveal too much. And here I am thinking about it again. Godamnit. Stop. We’re thinking about Courtney now. Courtney Courtney Courtney._

Speaking of, Duncan noticed she was staring at him during his hushed conversation with Geoff. When the team left the cabin for breakfast, she hung back with him. 

“You coming?” Geoff raised an eyebrow. 

“I should probably talk to Courtney real quick,” Duncan sighed, trying to think of an excuse to speak with her alone. “You know, after the whole thing last night…”

“Ah, gotcha, gotcha,” Geoff grimaced. “Good luck with that,” he nodded as he left Duncan to catch up with DJ at the front of the group. 

“We’ll see.”

“What did he want?” Courtney asked Duncan the moment everyone else was out of earshot. 

_Let’s do this._

“Christ, do you listen to all of my conversations? You must be very interested in my personal life,” Duncan smiled. 

“Wha- No, it’s nothing like that. I just thought it was weird how he kept whispering and glancing over.”

“Oh, he was looking at Brigette. Don’t worry, we weren’t talking about you. Unless, you wanted me to talk about you?” He hinted. 

“No, just, stop it,” she blushed. “Forget it-”

“He wants me to help him with a secret project,” Duncan examined his nails. “Something to do with Bridgette, I’m guessing. He wouldn’t give me any more details. DJ’s gonna be there too.”

“Really?” Courtney looked up to make sure they were far away enough from their teammates that nobody could hear them as they trailed behind the rest of the group. “What do you think it is?”

“No idea. Probably some cringey declaration of love for Bridgette.”

“Make sure it goes badly.”

“What?” He was taken aback. “Why?”

“It’s easier to vote one of them off if they don’t get together. Geoff is one of our main targets, remember?”

“I guess so… it just seems kind of harsh, no?”

“For a hundred thousand dollars?” She snorted. “I guarantee anyone here would do the same thing.”

_Cold-blooded….but I don’t blame her. I have to remember they’re all in this for the money. I don’t even know if I’d be allowed to win, or if the police would let me keep the money if I did._

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll do it. Destroy their chance at love,” he gasped over-dramatically. “But only because you insist.”

“Good. Then we’re all set,” she began to walk ahead of him.

“Wait, Courtney,” he called after her, catching up before she rejoined the group.

“Yes?”

“About last night-”

“What?” She crossed her arms and slowed down, instantly on the defense. “You’re going to bash me for costing us the challenge?”

“Huh? No. I was going to ask if you were alright?” He slowed down so they could keep walking side by side. 

“Why do you care?”

“That seems to be a theme with you, yeah? You always think I don’t care? Have you ever considered that maybe I do?”

“Does this have a point?” She was clearly taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation.

“Look, I know you were upset about the challenge, and I thought it was total bullshit how he put you on the spot like that in front of everybody.”

“I still backed down,” she whispered to the ground. 

“Nah, none of us would’ve been able to do it.”

“Yeah, but that’s you guys. I should’ve been able to.”

“You’re way too hard on yourself, you know that? And I totally pulled a bunch of strings to make sure you didn’t get voted off,” he was getting annoyed at her insinuation that she was better than her fellow teammates. “Why aren’t we talking about that?”

“Just focus on Geoff,” she decided she was done with the conversation. “Hey, Bridgette! What’s up?” She called out to her friend before running up to join her. 

_She gives me an order and she leaves. Ridiculous. Everyone loves to tell me what to do, don’t they?_

Breakfast was relatively painless. Usually, Duncan would let Tyler dominate the conversation, but since he was gone, the table was a little more quiet. Courtney stuck with Bridgette and Sadie, clearly trying to form a coalition amongst the girls. 

_I’ll leave the schmoozing to her. One of us will have to reach out to Harold… but I don’t think we can convince DJ to vote for anyone, God bless him._

Once breakfast ended, everybody went their separate ways. Duncan made sure to hang back with Geoff and DJ. 

“Alright, bros,” Geoff slapped the table. “We’re solo?”

“We’re solo,” Duncan nodded. 

“Where’s Courtney? You’re sure she won’t bother us?”

_How am I supposed to know where she is? What’s a good excuse… oh, she’s always off running, right?_

“She goes jogging every day. We should be fine,” Duncan explained. 

“What’s going on?” DJ asked, curious why Geoff called them there. 

“Alright, bros, you can’t say anything, but I’ve decided to make a move on Bridgette, and I need your help. I’m thinking of making her a present.”

“Aww, that’s so cute!” DJ gushed. “I’m sure she’ll love it!”

“You think?” Geoff seemed relieved. 

_Not if I can help it._

“For sure, man,” Duncan reassured him. 

“Oh, thank God. I was worried you guys would think it was dumb?”

“No way!” DJ insisted. “My Mama says that a respectful gift is the fastest way to a girl’s heart.”

_So DJ believes this is actually a good idea. Perfect. Now, how can I make this as awkward as possible?_

“Dude,” Duncan acted like he came up with the perfect idea, “you should give her something hand-made. You know, to show that you care.”

“I like that!” DJ perked up.

“Ok, so I have a possible idea, but you guys have to tell me if it’s bad, alright?”

“Dude,” Duncan swore, “I would tell you if it was dumb.”

“Yeah, man,” DJ copied him. “For real.”

_It’ll probably be a card or something. Like a love letter._

“I’m gonna make her a bowl. Like, out of clay. And I’ll carve a message on the back.”

_No fucking way. I can’t let him do that. Sorry, Courtney, but that’s too far. It’s so embarrassing-_

“I love it!” DJ beamed. “Dude, Bridgette has to love it.”

“I know, right! Any girl needs to appreciate that.”

“It’s just so thoughtful. You have the handmade aspect of the clay, and the practicality of the bowl combined with the thoughtfulness of a gift…”

“I thought the same thing! It’s the perfect combination! Duncan, what do you think?”

_Well, you guys made up your minds. I can’t save you now._

“Geoff, it’s awesome. Really great idea.”

“Guys, I’m so psyched. This has to win her over.”

“Wait, do you know how to make a bowl?” DJ asked, suddenly confused. 

“I’m sure it’s not that hard,” Geoff waved him off.

“You should make it in the shape of a heart,” Duncan figured he’d take it all the way.

“Genius!” Geoff snapped his fingers. “I have to find some clay.”

“Chris probably has some?” DJ offered. “This is camp, right?”

“Hey, Chef!” Geoff called over to the man who was still in the mess hall. 

“What?” Chef asked, clearly annoyed. 

“Do you have any clay?”

“Clay?”

“Yeah, clay.”

“Geoff is making a present for Bridgette,” Duncan explained, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Oh?” Chef quirked an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, bro,” Geoff smiled, a dreamy look in his eyes. “I’m gonna make her a bowl in the shape of a heart, and I’m gonna carve a message on the back, and- oh, maybe I should put a picture of the two of us!”

“The great ideas keep coming, don’t they, Geoff?” Duncan stared directly at Chef.

“I see…” Chef considered. “Well, I’m sure I could get some clay for you,” he started to laugh. “Good luck, Geoff! Ah, haha! Oh, man…” he left the mess hall. 

“What did he think was so funny?” Geoff wondered.

“It’s Chef. Who knows?” Duncan dismissed his concerns. 

“Can you guys help me find some stuff to decorate with?”

“Of course, man,” DJ smiled, genuinely pleased to help out. 

_Is DJ in on this? Does he understand how cringey this is? Maybe he doesn’t want to step on Geoff’s happiness. That must be it… What a good guy. I could never._

Geoff’s idea of ‘decorations’ only contributed to the overall shitshow of a present. He decided to track down Lindsay to see if she had any ideas. Unfortunately, she spent all of her time with Heather and Beth, which meant the three of them were on the beach, and in order to talk to Lindsay, he would need to get past Heather. 

“What do _you_ want?” Heather spotted Geoff, Duncan, and DJ walking towards her clique. She took an extra moment to size-up Duncan, possibly wary of his friendship with Gwen. Behind her, Lindsay’s eyes were red and puffy, while Beth tried to console her. 

“Nice to see you too, Heather,” Duncan smiled at her, much to her disgust. 

“Hey, Lindsay,” Geoff began his request before noticing she was a mess, “woah, are you ok?”

“Yeah,” she hiccuped. 

“She’s upset that Tyler was voted off,” Beth explained on her behalf. 

“No thanks to you guys,” Heather crossed her arms, glaring at each member of the Killer Bass. 

“Wait, you guys voted for Tyler?” Lindsay realized and backed away. 

“No, no,” Geoff insisted. 

“Well, you were on his team, right?” Heather tried to create as much conflict as possible. 

“How could you vote for someone on your own team?” Lindsay demanded to know. 

“That’s how the game works,” Beth whispered in her ear. 

“What!? So… we’re gonna have to vote for each other?” She tore apart from Beth. 

“No, we won’t!” Heather diffused the situation, realizing the fight was no longer in her best interest. “Because the three of us are best friends, remember?”

“Ooh, I see!” Lindsay smiled. “Ok, that makes sense!”

“Dude, what is going on?” DJ whispered. 

“I don’t even…” Geoff trailed off. “Um, Lindsay?”

“Oh!” She noticed Geoff was still standing there. “George, was it?”

“Geoff, actually. Spelled kind of similar, I guess. Anyways, I’m making a present for Bridgette, and I was wondering if you had anything I could use to decorate with? You know, girly stuff?”

“That’s so romantic!” She swooned. “I have some ribbons I’d be willing to give up! You know, for the cause! Ooh, and some buttons! Hang on, I’ll be right back! Wait right there!” She took off running towards the cabins. 

“Oh, um, thanks!” Geoff called after her. 

“Here,” Beth handed him a small vial. “Use this.”

“What?” Geoff forgot she was even there. “Oh. What’s this?”

“It’s glitter. I always carry some with me,” she gave him a dorky smile. “Take it.”

“Ah. Thanks,” he accepted the vial. 

“Alright, I’m back!” Lindsay announced as she ran back to the group, arms full of supplies. “Here you go,” she dumped everything into Geoff’s arms. “That’s ribbons and buttons, and a few other things.”

“Hell yeah,” Geoff looked at the pile in his arms. “Thanks, guys.”

“Are you done?” Heather impatiently asked. 

“Yep, that’s all I need.”

“Good. Goodbye.”

“Oh. Bye, guys! Thanks again!” Geoff began the walk back to the mess hall. 

“Bye, James! TJ! Dillon!” Lindsay cheered. 

“Those aren’t their names!” Heather hissed. 

“Well, it’s the spirit that counts!”

Chris was waiting for them back at the mess hall. He had a massive smile plastered across his face, which was never a good sign. In his hands he held a lump of pink clay and a photograph that Duncan couldn’t see from far away. 

“Look who’s here!” He announced when Geoff opened the door. “I heard you were looking for clay?”

“Oh, awesome!” Geoff spread his art supplied out on an empty table and took the clay from Chris. “Thanks so much Chris!”

“No problem!” Chris beamed, eager for Geoff to embarrass himself on TV. “Take this, too. It’s a picture of your whole team.”

“Oh, hell yeah. This is gonna look so cool…”

As Geoff raved about his possible design ideas, Chris caught Duncan’s eye and frowned, obviously pissed off. 

_He’s probably annoyed I never met him with another letter… So over-dramatic._

Duncan rolled his eyes. He hated putting up with Chris’ bullshit, but Chris also had the ability to make his life a living hell. May as well appease him. He took his most recent letter from his pocket so Chris could see and casually slipped it to him when he walked out of the building. 

“Good luck, Geoff!” Chris grinned and slammed the door shut. 

“Alright, guys,” Geoff clapped his hands. “Do either of you have any sort of artistic talent?”

“Nope,” Duncan answered reflexively. 

_This one’s all you._

“Sorry,” DJ apologized. “I have no idea how to use clay.”

“No problem,” Geoff decided. “It can’t be that bad. Let’s see here…” he picked up the clay in his hands, unsure of what he was supposed to do. “It’s a good texture.”

“Oh, is it?” Duncan asked. “Good, I was worried for a second.”

“Great texture.”

For the next hour, Duncan and DJ watched as Geoff attempted to wrestle the clay into a heart-shaped bowl. Duncan felt tempted to offer his help, but he also wanted no part in the final product. 

“Alright, how’s that look?” Geoff sat back when he was satisfied with the basic structure of the bowl. “Does it resemble a heart?”

Duncan had to admit, it didn’t look half-bad. At least, he could see the heart shape. 

“Pretty good,” DJ approved. 

“And I was thinking I could add buttons along the border, and the feathers here…” he reached for the mess of art supplies nearby. 

“Oh, wow. That’s something…” Duncan watched as Geoff assaulted the bowl with decorations. 

“And I’ll put a picture of us in the middle. Ah, shit,” Geoff looked at the team picture. 

“What’s wrong?” DJ looked over his shoulder. 

“We’re nowhere near each other in this picture. Oh, wait! I’ve got it,” Geoff tore the photo in half. “I’ll just cut us out and then tape it so it looks like we’re together.”

“Ah,” Duncan watched as Geoff carefully stuck both pictures to the clay. 

_Oh, that’s so fucking creepy. No way._

“Ok, I think that looks pretty solid… Hang on, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right back,” Geoff stood up and left the mess hall, leaving DJ and Duncan to stare at the monstrosity in front of them. 

“So…” Duncan looked at the bowl, taking it all in. “It looks… interesting.”

“There’s no way we can let him do this.”

“Ok, thank God you think it’s terrible. How did he think this was a good idea? It’s right shitty, I don’t know what else to say.”

“It sounded like a good idea! I thought he’d make her something simple, you know? Like a card? But he was so excited about the bowl that I didn’t want to ruin his excitement… I don’t know what to do,” DJ glared at the arts and crafts disaster. 

“We can’t let him give that thing to Bridgette,” Duncan sighed. 

_We have to let him give that thing to Bridgette. So help me God if this plan falls through._

“How do we tell him?” DJ looked at the door to make sure Geoff wasn’t going to march in. 

“I don’t know. You know, maybe she’ll like it. I mean, he clearly put in a lot of effort…Maybe it’s not that bad.”

“I don’t know, dude…”

“I just feel bad breaking his spirit like that, you know? I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” Duncan tried to appeal to DJ’s soft spot for never hurting anybody ever. 

“Hey guys, I’m back!” Geoff announced his presence as he flung open the doors. 

“Geoff, really quick,” DJ tried to catch his attention. 

“Hang on, guys,” Geoff sat down. “Before you say anything, I just want to say… thank you.”

“Hmm?” DJ asked, eyes wide.

“It was really nice of you guys to give up your afternoon and help me with my project all day, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. Not to get all sappy or anything. Just thought I’d let you know. So, DJ, what were you gonna say?”

“Ah… nothing. I was just gonna ask if you thought of a message for Bridgette?”

“Yep! I’ll carve it right now,” Geoff took the bowl and began to write with the sharp end of a feather. “It says, ‘I hope you think of me whenever you drop loose change into this.’ What do you think?”

“Geoff, it’s perfect,” DJ gave up. “Really great idea.”

“Aw, thanks, guys! I’m gonna put it on her bed tonight. Or maybe tomorrow morning. We’ll see!”

“Good luck,” Duncan smiled. 

“God, I can’t wait!” Geoff could barely contain himself. 

_Well, at least he’s passionate. You have to give him that._

Later that night, the team sat in the cabin, not doing anything in particular. More than anything, Duncan wanted to talk to Courtney just to touch base about what was going on, but she was glued to Bridgette and Sadie, so that wasn’t happening anytime soon. Besides, she would just refuse to talk about anything non-challenge related. 

At one point, she stood up, and Duncan thought she’d ask to speak with him alone, but instead she announced, 

“Alright, I’m going to bed. We have to win tomorrow, you know,” she collapsed onto her mattress. 

_Well, that’s useless._

One by one, his teammates returned to their separate beds, leaving him to stay awake, alone, for hours. He didn’t bother lying down under the sheets- he knew he wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. Instead, he sat cross-legged on his bed with his back against the wall, staring down at the floor. 

_No more waiting- I need to get things moving with Courtney as soon as possible. Tomorrow. No more excuses. Just act._

It was times like this that Duncan missed having his own room. If he were home, he’d turn on a lamp and draw for a while, or listen to music. Instead, he stared at that dirty floor for hours until eventually, finally, he drifted off to sleep. 

“Good morning, campers!” Chris barked the next morning from outside the cabin. “Let’s get moving! You have a long day ahead of you!”

_Great, I have to bring those fucking earbuds..._

“Oh, I don’t like to hear that,” Geoff grumbled from his bed.

“Come on, let’s go!” Chris ordered from the other side of the door. 

“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Sadie rubbed her eyes. 

“Geoff, did you… you know…” DJ asked, pulling the two of them aside. 

“Yeah, dude. I gave it to her last night,” Geoff beamed. 

_Perfect. I hope she’s disgusted._

“Tell us what she says,” DJ smiled, knowing full-well she would have nothing nice to say. 

“Listen up, campers!” Chris announced once everyone was outside. “Today, we’ll be taking a little trip. Each team will have to canoe with a partner all the way to Boney Island, build a rescue fire, which I will judge, and the canoe themselves back here! Understood? Good! But, listen closely! Don’t take anything from the Island, or you’ll be cursed with bad luck, ok? Seriously. I don’t mess around with that stuff. Alright, ready?”

“Where are the canoes?” Courtney asked. 

“Down by the docks,” Chris sighed. “I mean, where else would they be? Anyways, ready-”

“Sorry! I was in the bathroom,” Beth appeared out of nowhere. 

“Oh, come on! Well, I’m not re-explaining it. Someone fill her in. It’s a canoe race, not that complicated. Ready, set, go!”

Both teams started running towards the dock. Courtney caught up to Duncan and ran next to him. 

“Oh, hey, Courtney-”

“Listen. I’ll fill you in later. Choose Harold or Sadie as a partner. I’ll take Bridgette.”

“Um, ok.”

Once everybody reached the canoes, Bridgette was quick to choose Courtney as her canoeing partner. 

“Courtney, come with me?” 

“For sure!” Courtney beamed. 

_Clearly, the gift didn’t go so well._

“Hey,” Duncan offered to Geoff and DJ. “I’ll go with Harold and Sadie. They could probably use an extra partner.”

_Classic scenario. One of us has to break off from the fun group to join the group that nobody wants to be in. I may as well. It’ll save me from talking._

“Good move. Thanks,” DJ smiled. 

“No problem. Sadie, Harold, let’s do this!” He hopped into the back of their canoe. 

“Hey! Here to join?” Sadie turned around to smile at him. 

“You know it!”

“This is gonna be so fun!” She shrieked. “Just let us know if you need a break.”

“Break?”

“Because of your arm,” Harold said without turning around. 

“Oh. Um, thanks, guys.”

“Let’s do this!” Sadie cheered as they started to paddle. 

_Holy fuck. My arm. I forgot. There’s no way my shoulder can handle this trip. It’s definitely gonna give out. I mean, it’s been doing better, but a canoe race? No, two races! We have to race back! Fuck, what do I do? Can I still reopen the scars? I’d bleed out and die right here on TV. Would they edit that out?_

At first, Duncan thought he made a solid move by picking a canoe where he wouldn’t have to make conversation, but when he saw Courtney and Bridgette chatting like old pals, he realized he was supposed to be winning over Sadie and Harold. 

“So, have you guys canoed before?”

“Nope!” Sadie called out from the front of the canoe. “We don’t have that where I live. Small town and all that. Oh, there’s a lake nearby, though! Not enough space for canoeing, but we used to sell ice cream and stuff.”

“What about you, Harold?”

“Oh, sure. We used to go all the time at Possum Scouts.”

“Erm, what’s that?”

“Possum Scouts? Oh, it’s the best. We’d get badges for all sorts of stuff.”

“Badges? That sounds pretty cool.”

_That shit sounds lame as hell._

“Do you want to hear about all of them?”

_No. Oh, please no. But if it’ll keep him talking, make it seem like we’re friends…Distract me from my shoulder..._

“Sure, Harold.”

“So, I have a badge for survival, and a badge for identifying different species of birds, and a badge for carving wood- I can carve anything, really. And I have a badge for having the most badges. Then I have a badge for rapping, and a badge for freestyling-”

“Those are two separate badges?”

“Yep. They invented them for me,” he stated proudly. “Rapping is, you know, how fast you can go, getting the pronunciation right, all that. And then freestyling is actually coming up with the words on the spot. You know Eminem?”

“Um, not really. I don’t listen to rap that much.”

“He’s the greatest,” Harold gushed. “I’d love to see him love one day, but, you know, nobody’s coming to play in New Brunswick. I mean, the last scene in ‘8 Mile,’ it’s just… perfect. And Snoop Dogg’s album from back in November? Kanye with ‘Late Registration?’ Oh, it’s awesome.”

_What the fuck is he talking about?_

“Ah, good to hear, man.”

“I like Taylor Swift,” Sadie announced, trying to stick with the conversation. 

“There’s no badge for that,” Harold explained. 

“Oh.”

“I can make you a badge, if you want? I make them all the time.”

“But liking Taylor Swift isn’t a skill,” she shook her head. “Like, you know how rapping is a skill? I need a skill in order to have a badge.”

“I’ll think of something,” Harold reassured her. “Don’t worry. Duncan, what music do you like?”

“We probably have opposite tastes,” Duncan conceded. “But that whole punk-emo genre, I guess. Blink 182, My Chemical Romance, all that good stuff,” he hated talking about his music preferences out loud. Something about it made him want to cringe. Too much vulnerability. 

“Great, so we went in three opposite directions,” Sadie observed. “Music-wise.”

“Yep,” Duncan agreed. “Great job, guys.”

Halfway through the race, and he knew his shoulder wasn’t going to make it. There was just no way. He could technically push himself and finish the course, but he’d risk completely destroying his arm, possibly forever, and he knew there was no decent medical care on that island. He tried to ignore the pain, but it got so bad that he nearly had tears in his eyes. Duncan wasn’t sure how an injury could ache, burn, and radiate pain all at once, but his stab wound was managing to do exactly that. Thankfully, his saving grace in the form of Officer Walsh’s voice entered his ears. 

“Hey, Duncan. I heard you’re doing a canoe race to an abandoned island? How’s that doing?”

“Listen,” Duncan lowered his voice as much as possible, ducking behind Harold so nobody could see him speaking. “I am about to amputate my arm, so help me God.”

“What, it’s bothering you?”

“That’s an understatement,” Duncan hissed. “It _fucking_ kills. No way in hell am I finishing this race. Get me out of here or I’m jumping out of this canoe and drowning.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Give me a second…” He heard muffled voices in the background. She was probably talking to Officer MacNeil. 

“You good?” Harold asked. 

“Yep, just giving myself a pep-talk,” Duncan murmured. 

“Ah.”

“Alright, Duncan?” Walsh was back. “You should be fine to stop. Just have Sadie and Harold row, neither of them are planning on voting you off as far as the audience knows. But you have to act really apologetic.”

“Fine,” Duncan agreed through gritted teeth. “Hey, guys? I’m really sorry, but my arm totally gave out on me. Mind if I take a break on the rowing?”

“Go ahead! Don’t worry, we can handle it!” Sadie reassured him. 

“Yeah, my mad skills will carry us through,” Harold explained. “You should be fine.”

“Cool, thank you guys so much. I really appreciate it,” Duncan let go of his oars and immediately curled in on himself in the back of the canoe. 

_Taking the back seat was a stellar play. At least none of them are watching me right now._

It was kind of a dick move to say he was taking a break and then straight-up quit rowing altogether. Duncan could admit that. But this was an extraordinary circumstance, and he was sure that anybody else in his position would do the same thing. Besides, by the time they reached Boney Island, they weren’t _that_ far behind the other canoes on their team, and a few of the Gophers hadn’t even arrived yet, so as far as Duncan understood, he was in the clear. 

Boney Island itself looked like a total nightmare wasteland. It was some shit straight out of a movie. No wonder Chris warned them about everything being cursed. 

“What do we do now?” Sadie looked around for their teammates. 

“Over here!” Courtney called out. She was standing with Bridgette as they carried their canoe. “You have to bring your canoe with you!”

“Oh! Hi, guys!” Sadie waved. 

“Let’s go,” Duncan stepped out of the canoe, helping drag it to land. 

“Your arm is better?” Harold asked. 

“I’ve already held you guys back enough. I can’t let you carry the canoe alone. Besides,” he looked at the coastline, “the other team is moving fast.”

“How about you carry the oars?” Sadie offered. 

“Sure,” Duncan agreed. Anything to get them moving. In Tyler’s absence, Geoff took it upon himself to lead the team through the woods. 

“Crossroads up ahead!” He announced. “Where are we going?”

“It doesn’t matter! We just have to build a fire!” Courtney yelled back. “Pick a random direction!”

“Go left!” Bridgette ordered. 

“Awesome idea, Bridgette!” Geoff praised. 

“Uh, not really,” she shut him down. 

_Jeez, I wonder what Courtney told her?_

Once they followed the path all the way down, the team reached the other side of Boney Island. 

“Alright,” Courtney helped Bridgette set down their canoe, prompting the other groups to do the same. “We need to build a fire.”

Duncan put the oars in a pile next to the canoes. 

_Finally, my area of expertise. I literally have a lighter in my pocket. I’m not gonna announce that, of course. I don’t want them getting their grubby hands all over it._

“Here’s what we need,” he declared. “Nobody worry about starting the actual fire. I’ll handle that. Start gathering dry leaves, wood, stuff like that. Nothing wet, or the fire will go out. Someone needs to clear off a space and dig a very shallow, wide pit, alright? But not too deep, or the fire won’t look as big. Preferably someone who doesn’t want to go in the woods?”

“On it!” Sadie volunteered. 

“Great, you can start with that. The rest of us need to start looking for stuff to put in the fire. Let’s go. And don’t get lost!”

It was the most he’d ever spoken to his team at once. He wasn’t looking forward to doing it again any time soon. 

“Duncan,” Courtney whispered. “Come with me.”

_Finally, we can talk this all out._

“About time. I was starting to think you’d forgotten I existed,” he followed her into the woods. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you said to Geoff, but the gift was perfect. In a bad way. Bridgette hated it. I mean, a hand-made bowl in the shape of a heart? With a picture of them he had to tear apart so it would look like they were together? It was genius.”

“Oh, thanks. I can’t take all of the credit, though. Geoff came up with a ton of that stuff himself. I just encouraged him. Take some of those,” he gestured to a few pieces of dried up bark he’d found on the forest floor. 

“Anyways, Bridgette is totally creeped out, so that’s good. I don’t know how long it’ll last, because I’m sure he’ll realize it was a bad move and try to talk it out with her, and she’ll forgive him, all that stuff… but at least it plants doubt in their relationship.”

“God, you analyzed this so far. I just helped some guy with his arts and crafts.”

“You did your part,” she shrugged. “And you sat in a canoe with Sadie and Harold, which nobody else wanted to do. Make sure you’re getting wood for the fire, by the way. I’m not losing this challenge.”

“That wasn’t too bad. Harold talked about his Possum Scout badges.”

“You looked miserable. I was watching.”

“Ah. Well,” he rubbed his shoulder, not even realizing, “my arm kind of gave out halfway through the race. Don’t worry, I’ll finish the challenge, before you start to panic. I won't cost us a win.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” she said quickly as she walked a few steps ahead of him, scanning the area for wood. 

“Really? Because winning and losing seems to be a sore subject for you.”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Or, something related…” she trailed off, staring at a stray branch covered in dirt. 

“The dirt will smother the flame.”

“I thought so…”

“Well, are you going to tell me?”

“Fine,” she turned to look at him, still keeping her distance. “I suppose it was unfair of me to leave like that after the phobia challenge. Especially when you actually conquered your fear. I just assumed I was going home. So, I probably should have talked to you, especially when we made all of those elimination plans, but I was too wrapped up in myself.”

_Fuck, I didn’t think she’d take this so seriously. I don’t even care that much. I never expected her to apologize._

“Nah, you’re fine,” Duncan smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Chris kinda screwed you over, so I get why you were upset.”

_Wait. We’re alone in the woods. Cameras are rolling. This is my chance._

“It’s just,” he kept talking, “I was worried about you.”

“Worried about me?” She took a step closer as she repeated the words in disbelief. “Why?”

“I mean, you were upset and all that, sure. But you were so convinced that you were going to be voted off that night, and then I realized- I didn’t want that to happen,” he tried to pretend like he was coming up with these words on the spot rather than having planned this encounter. “So, I talked to Bridgette and Sadie to make sure they’d vote for Tyler.”

“Why would you do that?” 

She took another step. 

He did the same. 

“Duncan,” Walsh ordered. “We can’t risk you messing this up. Repeat after me. ‘I don’t know, Courtney, it’s just…”

“I don’t know, Courtney,” Duncan sighed, staring at the ground. “It’s just…

“‘There’s something about you. I know that sounds dumb, but-’”

“-you’re so different from all the other girls I’ve known,” Duncan repeated the words Walsh spoke into his ear. “I think you’re special. And not in the way that every guy says a girl is special. I think you’re special in the way that you could take on the world if you wanted to. It hurts me to see you so hard on yourself. Look, whether it’s high school, law school, Total Drama. I know you can do it. Don’t let some stupid challenge on a gameshow define you when you’re so much better than that.”

_Jesus fucking Christ, whoever wrote that was paying attention. That literally hit all the notes. I’m sure Walsh did it. There’s no way MacNeil would be able to come up with that shit._

Duncan stood in the dark, awaiting Courtney’s reaction. She was standing much closer now, staring at him with an expression he tried to decipher. 

“Wow, that… that was really nice of you,” she cleared her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Whisper this,” Walsh instructed. “And use the same inflections as I do.”

“You don’t have to _say_ anything,” Duncan reassured her, stepping slightly closer. 

“Oh?” She looked up at him.

_God, this is so fucking dumb. Let’s just get this over with._

“Course not,” he smiled, shaking his head. 

“Go for it,” Walsh demanded. 

Thankfully, Courtney beat him to the chase, tilting her head up and pressing their lips together. Duncan closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss, trying to enjoy it, while in reality he was emotionally numb. He assumed this would be a quick peck on the lips, but Courtney was really-

_Was this how you thought you’d spend New Years? What, sitting on the floor of this shithole? No way in hell. Yeah, I figured. So much for a happy new year. Eh, the new year can go fuck itself. Not like we’re gettin’ outta here any time soon. Another shit year as usual. Guess I’m not kissing anyone at midnight. Hmm? Fuck, how much of that have you had? Shh, not too much… You’re such a lightweight. You know they’ll kill us if they find that. You worry too much. Half the people here are trashed right now. You think they give a shit? Aww… don’t pout. I’m not pouting. Why are you looking at me like that?_

“Duncan? Duncan?”

He opened his eyes, only to see the ones staring back were the wrong shade of brown. 

_Wait… what?_

Duncan looked around, completely bewildered. Where the fuck was he?

“Duncan?” Someone said his name again. Courtney. Right. They kissed. How did that go?

“Sorry,” he shook his head and gave her a reassuring smile. “I completely spaced out for a second there.”

“Are you alright?” She looked genuinely concerned. 

“Yep.”

“Well, we better get back to the challenge,” she gave him another quick kiss and turned back to keep looking for sticks. “I don’t want to lose.”

“I’m well-aware. Don’t worry, you have enough. Let’s head back.” Duncan grabbed a large stick nearby and snuck his lighter from his pocket, flicking it while Courtney wasn’t looking and setting the wood ablaze. 

“But how are we supposed to start the fire?” She asked. 

“Turn around.”

“I don’t see- oh, wow. How’d you do that?”

“I said I’d take care of it. Let’s go.”

They rejoined the rest of their team to find them huddled around a shallow pit filled with dried branches and leaves. 

“This looks great, guys,” Duncan smiled. 

“How’d you get that?” Sadie’s eyes widened. 

“Ah, nothing too crazy. Just some old fire-starting techniques.” He put the burning stick on top of the dry pile, watching in satisfaction as the fire spread. 

“Hey, that looks pretty good!” Bridgette smiled. “I don’t think the other team even managed to get a flame going yet.”

“We’re going to need more wood,” Courtney observed. 

“I’ll handle it,” Harold announced as he stepped away from the fire.

“I think we might have a shot at winning,” Geoff beamed. 

“And, there we go,” Harold dumped all of the team’s oars into the flame. 

“Well, I spoke too soon,” Geoff sighed. 

“Harold!” Courtney shrieked. “Why would you do that?”

“You said we needed more wood!”

“And, Killer Bass! You’re fire is all-set! You may head back to your canoes!” Chris announced from God-knows-where. 

“See?” Harold said as if he were proving a point. 

“Harold,” Courtney seethed. “We can’t go back because we don’t have any oars!”

Suddenly, a massive fireball erupted from nearby. 

“And, Screaming Gophers! Your fire is good as well! Both teams can race back!”

“Shit, what do we do?” Geoff looked around in a panic. 

“Look,” Bridgette tried to calm everybody down. “We have to start heading back, even if we don’t have our oars. We can’t just stand here and do nothing.”

“Bridgette’s right,” Geoff agreed like he had the idea to begin with. 

“Let’s just go,” Courtney begged. The groups scrambled to pick up their canoes. Since he didn’t have any oars to carry, Duncan just ran behind Sadie and Harold like a lost puppy until they reached the shore, where the Gophers were already in the water. 

“Damnit!” Geoff yelled. “What now?”

“Just have someone kick for you!” Izzy yelled. 

“Izzy, what are you doing?” Leshawna scolded her. 

“Oh, like someone gets in the water and pushes us…” Courtney trailed off as she looked at DJ.

“You want me to do it?” DJ stared at her.

“I mean, you’re the biggest,” Harold observed.

“DJ, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to,” Geoff reassured him. “You don’t have to.”

“No! No,” he stared apprehensively at the water. “I’ll do it. Fine. But I can’t push three canoes at once.”

“We can stack them.” Courtney offered. “And then we’ll all pile in the top one.”

“Fine. Just… hurry up.”

As it would turn out, DJ’s apparent fear of water caused him to swim faster so he’d spend less time in the lake. Somehow, the Killer Bass managed to make it back to shore before the Gophers. 

“And, the Killer Bass win the challenge! Gophers, I’ll see you at the elimination ceremony!”

The ceremony itself was rather short. Izzy was voted off for giving the Killer Bass the tip about having someone push them to shore. Duncan wasn’t too bothered. 

When the team reached their cabin, their letters were waiting for them, as usual. Duncan put his earbuds back in his suitcase and saw that Chris left his old letter on his pillowcase with his observations written in pen. He only wrote a few words. 

“Love the drama. Love whoever wrote this. Still lost.”

_Fucking useless…_

Duncan opened up his newest letter, bracing himself for any possibility.

> Duncan,  
> Hello. I hope all is well. Normally, I would never involve myself in this matter, but everybody is kicking up quite a fuss about what you did or did not do, so I figured I would reach out myself. We watch you on the television, you know. I saw how you mistreated that poor Céline woman and said she was unattractive. She seems like a very respectable young lady. I hope that you brush up on your manners and apologize to her. You know, back in my day, we never would have allowed somebody your age to reference an adult like that. Why, after the war, we were taught to respect our elders. I hope that one day you learn how you’re supposed to treat others.   
> PS I see that you’ve changed your hair. I still don’t like it. Why does it have to be green? So flashy. Please do something about this. 

_So, this one is mad I offended a cardboard cutout of a major celebrity, and wants me to call her and apologize. Wait, is this just some random old guy? How fucking creepy is that?_

It was already late by the time they got back to their cabin, so everyone went to bed relatively quick, leaving Duncan to stay awake for a little while, although he was fairly tired from the challenge. 

_The kiss… what was that? Some sort of flashback? That was the longest one I’ve ever had while I’ve been awake. I wonder if Courtney noticed. And what did it mean? Why then and not some other time?_

Duncan couldn’t answer any of these questions from his cabin bunk bed. He needed Dr. Walterson, or Dr. Cabot, but he didn’t have either of them. Instead, he had his own useless thoughts, which accompanied him as he eventually fell asleep, no closer to an answer than he was a few hours ago. 

“Dude.”

“Huh?” Duncan squinted against the light filtering in through the boarded windows. 

“Dude,” Geoff repeated. “We gotta talk. After breakfast. About… well, you know. The situation.”

_Jesus Christ, we’re still on this?_

“Oh, sure thing,” he looked around to see who else was awake. Courtney was up early, as usual, already putting on her shoes. She waved to him. He smiled back. 

_Now what do I do with her?_

“Coming to breakfast?” She asked, giving no indication that anything was out-of-the-ordinary. 

“Sure,” he decided, even though he really didn’t want to go. To his surprise, Courtney walked next to him on the way to the mess hall, which she didn’t often do. 

“Not walking with Bridgette? What’s the occasion?”

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. 

“Never. Speaking of, Geoff wants to talk with us again. After breakfast. Think you can survive without me for the morning?”

“I’m sure _I’ll_ manage,” she looked him up and down. “You, on the other hand? Good luck.”

“Aw. Come on. I can manage.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Don’t miss me too much, alright?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” he smiled. 

After sitting through another unremarkable breakfast, Duncan stayed with DJ and Geoff, bracing himself for another one of Geoff’s breakdowns over Bridgette. 

“So…” DJ asked once everybody else had left the mess hall. “What’s going on, Geoff?”

For his part, Geoff buried his head in his arms, sprawling out on the table. 

“It’s Bridgette…” he whimpered. 

“Oh?”

“She hated the gift,” he groaned, his voice muffled by the table. 

“What?” DJ tried to act as surprised as possible. “How?”

“I don’t know, man! It was so good!” Geoff hiccuped. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t like it?” Duncan questioned, curious as to what exactly Bridgette said. 

“Yeah,” Geoff lifted his head from his arms and wiped his eyes. “She told me so. She said, ‘I hate it.’”

“Jesus,” DJ shook his head. “Cold-blooded.”

“So, you know what that means,” Geoff reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver flask. “We’re drinking our cares away.”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Duncan grinned. 

“No, no,” DJ insisted. “Put that away, Geoff. You remember what happened last time. We’re not drinking our cares away. How much of that stuff did you bring with you?”

“A lot,” Geoff put the flask back in his pocket, much to Duncan’s disappointment.

“Look, Geoff, there’s a simple solution here,” DJ explained. “Just talk to her.”

“About what?” Geoff looked bewildered. 

“About your feelings! Or at least, explain why you made the gift so she isn’t totally creeped out.”

“I don’t wanna do that,” Geoff shook his head.

“You have to,” Duncan backed up DJ. The damage was already done with the bowl, he may as well help Geoff out now. 

“When?”

“Now,” DJ insisted. “You can’t do it during the next challenge. You have to nip this in the bud.”

“Ugghhh… fine. This isn’t cool, bros. But I know you guys would never give me bad advice,” he stood up, determined to speak with Bridgette. 

“We believe in you,” Duncan called after him.

“Thanks, guys!” Geoff let the door slam behind him. 

“I hope he figures it out…” DJ shook his head. 

“Well, I’m not waiting around here to find out,” Duncan stood up as well. “Wanna go look for people?”

“Sure,” DJ shrugged. “I haven’t seen any of the Gophers in a while.”

“Yeah, well- look, can I tell you something? Man to man?” They left the mess hall and started to walk down a path along the shore.

“Of course, man.”

“What do you think about Trent?”

“Trent? I don’t know, I think he’s pretty cool.”

_Leave it to DJ to always see the best in someone._

“Why, what do you think?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you’re nice to everyone, so I don’t want you to think I’m a complete jerk-”

“Duncan, I’ll stop you right there. You’re not a jerk. I’ll never think that.”

“Oh, um, thanks, DJ.”

“And just because I don’t say anything mean doesn’t mean I don’t think it in my head, right? So, what is it with Trent?”

“I don’t know. Everyone seems to really like him and think he’s this cool guy, but he just bothers me-”

“Woah, are we talking about Trent?”

Both DJ and Duncan spun around to see Noah had snuck up on them. 

“Yep,” Duncan stared directly at him, not really giving a shit if Noah ran back and snitched. 

“God, I fucking hate that guy,” Noah grinned. “I swear, you’re the only other person who thinks that. Literally everybody on my team loves him. They’re all obsessed.”

“Wait, why do you hate him?” Duncan wanted to know. “Sorry you have to hear this, DJ.”

“You’re good,” DJ reassured him. 

“Well,” Noah began, “Cody and Gwen think he’s all cool, right? But I’m convinced it’s fake.”

“Exactly! It’s fake! Like, he has a whole persona, but he’s not really like that!”

“Yes! And if you watch him really closely he messes up sometimes, you know? But no one else sees it!”

“Oh my God, at least you get it too. I couldn’t figure out what it was.”

“It just bothers me when people pretend to be someone they’re not…”

_So clearly things aren’t any better with Cody._

“Heads up,” DJ whispered. 

“Hmm? Oh…” Duncan could see Trent, Gwen, and Cody approaching in the distance. “Behind you.”

“Gotcha,” Noah nodded before turning around. “Hey, guys!” He waved. 

“What’s up?” Trent grinned. “Hey, Duncan! DJ! It’s been a while!” The two groups approached each other. “We’re going to the beach, wanna come with us?”

“Sure,” DJ smiled. 

_May as well. What else am I gonna do?_

“Sooo…” Gwen rubbed her hands together once they all sat down in the sand. “What’s happening on your team? Anything crazy?”

“Well,” DJ glanced over at Duncan. “Have any of you spoken to Geoff recently?”

“What happened?” Noah was completely invested.

“Basically,” DJ explained, “he made this present for Bridgette, right? It was this handmade bowl in the shape of a heart with all these buttons and feathers, and he cut out a picture of them and carved a message in the back. Tell me, would you guys ever do that?”

Cody looked completely panicked that someone had asked him something, so he waited for Trent to answer first. 

“No way!” Trent laughed. “Oh, I would never.”

“Yeah, totally not,” Cody agreed. 

“Well, he puts the bowl on her bed for her to find it the next morning. She hates it, right? Tells him to his face. So now, he’s talking to her and trying to fix the whole situation.”

“And you guys just let him give her the bowl?” Trent looked between Duncan and DJ. 

“We tried to stop him,” DJ insisted. “But he was so into it, and we didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and honestly, the bowl itself didn’t look too bad. But man, she hated it.”

“What’s happening on your team?” Duncan wanted to know. “Still split into cliques?”

“Of course,” Noah laid on his back in the sand. “Heather and her minions. And then Gwen and her minions.”

“You guys aren’t my minions,” Gwen kicked him.

“And Leshawna hangs out with Harold all the time-”

“Wait, what?” Duncan cut him off. “Like, our Harold?”

“Yeah, man. They hang out all the time. You haven’t noticed?”

“I guess not,” Duncan suddenly realized he never knew where Harold went during the day. 

_With how the numbers add up… it’s weird that Heather hasn’t been voted off yet. If the four of these guys and Leshawna banded together, they could easily get rid of her. They must not have a formal alliance. Well, Cody is easy to manipulate, his relationship with Noah might be in shambles, Noah has issues with Trent, Trent is possessive over Gwen, and Gwen could be oblivious to all of this. Clearly, this clique isn’t as innocent as it seems from the outside…_

“Trust me, I didn’t see it at first, but they’re actually good for each other,” Gwen smiled, leaning against Trent’s shoulder, which made Duncan want to vomit. “Opposites attract, I guess. It’s kinda cute.”

“Speaking of opposites,” Trent tilted his head, “how’s everything with Courtney?”

_Fuck you, Trent. Of course he wants me paired off with Courtney. Less competition for Gwen. Well, I won't give him the satisfaction._

“What do you mean?” Duncan asked with the face of perfect innocence. 

“You know,” Trent smirked like they were old pals talking about a well-kept secret. “With you two?”

“No. I don’t know.”

_Completely straight face. Give him nothing._

“Oh. I thought you guys were a thing. Right, DJ?” Trent hoped DJ would back him up. 

“I don’t know anything about this,” DJ had no clue what was happening, but he would never betray Duncan or get himself involved in someone’s personal business. 

“What about you two?” Duncan flipped the script, gesturing to Trent and Gwen. “You guys are together now?”

“Yup!” Gwen blushed, clinging onto Trent, who smiled down at her. 

“Gross,” Noah voiced what Duncan was thinking. 

“Shut up!” Gwen insisted. 

Duncan spent the next few hours stuck in that group. It was one of the times he genuinely missed having Tyler around. Sure, he’d just spend all of his time making out with Lindsay, but he was better than the Gopher Cringe Circle he found himself in. At least Noah wasn’t afraid to tell it like it was. 

_I have to give him credit- he moved on from the makeout incident almost immediately. Cody still wont look me in the eye. I feel bad. I mean, he must be really insecure, right? Does he think I’m gonna rat him out? I honestly don’t give a shit who he makes out with._

Thankfully, Courtney chose that moment to pass them on her jog. 

“Hey, guys,” she stopped to say hello.

“Hi, Courtney,” DJ waved. 

“Come with me?” She offered to Duncan. 

“Running?” He pretended to consider it while knowing the answer was definitely yes. “Sure, why not? I’ll catch up with you guys later?”

“See ya,” Trent said, probably relieved to get him out of there. 

“Thanks for rescuing me, that was a shitshow,” he told Courtney the moment they were out of earshot. “Geoff’s gonna to talk to Bridgette, by the way.”

“I’m sure she’ll forgive him,” she sighed. 

“I hope you aren’t actually planning on running, because I don’t think I can keep up with you.”

“Are you kidding?”

“What? That CIT training must be hardcore. You’re much faster than me.”

“Well, you are pretty short…”

“Not that short!”

“Fine, we’ll walk,” she paused at a crossroad. “Hmm… this way,” she chose the left. 

“So, why running?”

“I don’t know, I just like it. Helps me clear my head.”

“See, I never got that. How could you relax when you have to focus on exercising?”

“You just do. Why do you disappear into the woods alone?”

“I just like to be by myself. Helps me think,” Duncan conveniently left out the part where he worked on the ongoing serial murder investigation.

“See! Don’t you worry about being eaten?”

“In the middle of the day? Nah.”

_Huh, maybe I should be more careful. Let’s be real, MacNeil isn’t coming over here to help me if I get attacked by a bear._

“So, you jog every day?”

“Yep. In the morning when we have off, and whenever we lose a challenge. I don’t know, it just calms me down. It’s tradition.”

“Huh. I just go to bed when we lose. But we didn’t last night!”

“Right, last night…” she trailed off, staring at the ground. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“What? The kiss?”

“Maybe,” he grinned. “Maybe, I don’t know, do it again sometime?”

_Is this charming? I think it sounds pretty good._

“I’ll consider it.”

“Ouch.”

“Kidding, kidding. Jeez,” she stopped walking. “You sounded so disappointed,” she slung an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. 

_No flashbacks, nothing weird… just, nothing. This is good._

He ran a hand through her hair, twirling the strands between his fingers. 

“Don’t mess up my hair,” she warned between kisses. 

“Sorry.”

“Hmm,” she held onto his hands. “Hmmph,” she broke off the kiss. “What’s up with your hands?” She examined the skin as she held onto them. 

“What do you mean?” He stared down at his hands in hers. 

“The skin on them,” she turned over his fingers where she could see small patches of discolored skin, a slightly different texture from the rest of his hand, hardly noticeable unless you were looking up close. Or touching them. Which she was. 

_Ah, fuck. I… totally forgot about that. They’ve been there for so long, I just ignore it now. Burns from over the years. Striking matches, dropping lighters. Some of those are years old. But she’d freak out._

“They’re just burns,” he tried to get her to move past it by going in for another kiss. 

“From what?”

_Think of something. Anything._

“Chemical burns. It’s an old story, really,” he pulled his hands away and looked at them, buying himself more time. “My uncle was a chemist-”

“I thought they were all cops.”

“He is now. This was twelve years ago. But before, he was a chemist. I went to visit him and my aunt, and he had all this shit set up in his garage. He told me not to go out there. I think you can see where this is going. I spilled something, and the rest was history.”

_A grandiose lie. Not too shabby._

“Did it hurt?” She stared at him wide-eyed. 

“I don’t really remember,” he shrugged. “The scars stayed with me forever, though. They grew with my hands.”

“Hmm…” she started to walk again. 

“What?”

“I just didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you’d say you got them by doing something stupid.”

“That’d probably make for a better story,” he shoved them deep in his pockets, where he felt his lighter. And… something else. “Oh, look. I have a few of those flower petals left in here. What are they?”

“Rose Rugosa?” 

“Yeah, those. What did you end up doing with them?”

“Put them away for safekeeping.”

“Right… and you never told me why they were special.”

“It’s a whole long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“I suppose it’s only fair, since you shared a story…” she looked off into the woods, as if someone out there might be listening in. “My grandma grew up in Puerto Rico, right? And when she moved to Canada- she was an adult, my mom was in elementary school. But she always used to say she missed the flowers. I don’t know if you’ve been to Puerto Rico…”

He shook his head.

“Well, there’s flowers everywhere. Pink, red, orange, it’s what you think of when you imagine a tropical island. We don’t have that in Ontario, of course. But I was walking with her once, and we found those,” she pointed to the petals in his hand. “And she just adored them. They’re actually from East Asia. She knew that, you know. She never believed they were from Puerto Rico, she knew her flowers, but I think she just liked to pretend they were a piece of home, you know? Anyways, she died a few years back, but every time I see them, I take a few with me. Kind of like a good luck charm.”

_Fuck, that was sad. I didn’t think she’d say that._

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine. Not your fault. We should go back,” she looked up at the sky. “It’s getting dark. And, you know, we have a challenge tomorrow.”

They walked back to their cabin in complete silence. 

_That was such a bummer. I shared a completely fake story, and she pours her heart out. God, I’m such an asshole._

Geoff and Bridgette seemed to be on better terms when they arrived at the cabin. At least, she wasn’t actively avoiding him. Harold was asleep. Duncan could already picture the long night ahead of him. 

Sure enough, not even two hours later, he sat up alone in the dark. 

_Realistically, how much longer can I let this relationship with Courtney last? How much farther can it go? I don’t like her all that much. There, I said it. Look, she’s great, but I could never date her. We’re just not compatible. What if she wants to have sex? I doubt it, but what if? I’d have to shut her down. I just can’t do it. Oh, she’d lose her shit if she saw my thighs. See? It’s stuff like that! I would never be able to explain it to her. What am I supposed to do now? Slowly break it off? Keep it as casual as possible? I can do that. Just hopes she gets voted off in the future. Or maybe she’ll dump me! That’ll be even better. Best case scenario. I’m sure I could make it happen._

The next morning, the campers stood around Chris, waiting for him to announce their challenge. He let them sleep in a few hours later than usual, which was rare for him, so it was already almost lunch. Duncan made sure to have his earbuds, but he didn’t think he’d need them. 

“Good morning, campers! For today’s challenge, we’ll be having a paintball deer hunt in the woods! Harold, Geoff, Bridgette! You guys will be hunting for the Killer Bass, using blue paint! Noah, Beth, Leshawna, Lindsay, you guys will hunt for the Screaming Gophers using orange! Everyone else will dress up as deer! Your goal? Try not to get hit by the opposite team! Interns!” He barked, as a few interns appeared and started to hand out antlers, paintball guns, and various other equipment. “The challenge ends at sundown. The deer with the least amount of paint on them win the challenge for their team, so don’t get hit! The deer get a five minute head start. Ready-”

“Chris, hunting is immoral,” Bridgette interrupted. 

“Bridgette. They aren’t real deer. Ready, set, go!”

Duncan adjusted his antlers and tail, which looked stupid as shit, and ran into the woods. He figured his best option would be to hide somewhere deep in the trees. He wasn’t looking to get nailed by a paintball in his shoulder. That would be an issue. 

“Hey!” Gwen ran past him. “Any idea where we’re going?”

“Nope!”

“Come with me?”

“Eh, may as well,” he followed after her. “I love the antlers, by the way. You really pull them off.”

“You too. Maybe you should start wearing them every day.”

“Really? I was thinking of changing up my look. Going for a woodland creature aesthetic.”

“Here’s your opportunity. Ah, shit,” a few shots were fired in the distance. “That’s not good.”

“Maybe not for you. It could be one of my team members. Then I’d be safe.”

“Or, it could be one of my team members. Then you’re fucked.”

“Why are we working together again?” He asked, suddenly confused. 

“Yeah, I guess it didn’t work out as well as I thought it would…”

“So… we go our own ways?”

“Sounds like it.”

“Good luck out there.”

“Will do,” she started to walk in the opposite direction, leaving Duncan alone again. He picked a random trail and followed it, keeping an eye out for anybody nearby. 

“Duncan.”

He ducked, thinking someone was about to blast him with paint. 

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

_Fucking MacNeil…_

“What do you want?” Duncan whispered. 

“I never said anything after the last episode, but good job with Courtney.”

“Yeah, about that… what am I supposed to do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“When do I break up with her?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, I can’t keep dating her forever, right? I’m not that interested. Well, maybe if she gets voted off soon-”

“No, no. That can’t happen. The whole point was that you needed her as an ally.”

“Ok, ok, relax.”

“Don’t do anything to jeopardize this, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

“Good,” his microphone crackled, signaling he was gone. 

_He’s just the worst…_

Duncan walked in circles for a little while longer until he found Courtney hiding behind a tree. 

“Hey,” she smiled. 

“How’s the hiding going?”

“Well, nobody’s found me yet. Have you seen anybody?”

“Nope.”

“Good,” she pulled him in for another kiss. 

_Ah, this again._

“Wow, in the middle of a challenge?” He mumbled. 

“You said there was no one here.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

_You know, she’s not a bad kisser. Actually, she’s- I can’t do this._

Duncan shoved her away and took a deep breath, grabbing onto the nearest tree for support. 

“What? You heard someone?” She looked around frantically after regaining her balance. 

“No,” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, not even realizing he was doing it. 

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, completely bewildered. “Sorry. I don’t know what just happened.”

“Are you alright?”

A loud coughing noise alerted both of them that someone was nearby. 

“Shit, get down,” Duncan dove for the ground. Not a moment later, Noah walked past, clutching onto his paintball gun, which he probably had no idea how to use. Duncan tried to improve his balance, but he stepped on a twig, causing Noah to turn around and look directly at the bush he was hiding behind. Duncan stood up, locking both of them into a staring contest. 

“Uh, hey, Noah.”

“Spare me the embarrassment and just run.”

“Bye, then,” Duncan took off, letting Courtney go in the opposite direction. 

_What the fuck was that? God, I should’ve known I’d do something like that. I’m not as fine as I thought I was. Shit. I’m not ok. I’m actually not ok. How do I come up with an excuse for that? What even happened?_

Duncan spent the rest of the challenge trying to avoid anybody, regardless of their team. He couldn’t risk anybody seeing him freak out. 

At one point, he could swear he heard Harold screaming, then he heard Leshawna screaming, then he heard complete silence for a while, all of which was concerning. He didn’t actually see anybody else, which meant nobody shot him, so that was good, at least. 

At sundown, he figured it was safe to walk back to camp. Usually, he’d have no idea where he was going, but since he circled the woods for hours and passed camp several times, he actually knew what to do. 

“Alright, there’s another deer from the Killer Bass- and look, no paint!” Chris announced. Most of his teammates were already back. 

“What’s up, guys?” Duncan asked Geoff and DJ. 

“We’re just waiting for the others to get back,” Geoff explained. 

“And another from the Gophers… alright, it looks like everyone’s here! And, the Killer Bass win! They’re clearly covered in less paint! Gophers, get ready to vote!”

_This will be interesting… Heather should be voted off. They have the numbers. But I bet she won't be. Something’s up with that team, I just know it._

Sure enough, Leshawna of all people was voted off, which made absolutely no sense to Duncan. When the team reached the cabin, Harold immediately went to bed, curling up into a ball so he could sulk.

_I’m sure Harold’s devastated… I should talk to him. Just to be nice. With the way things are going, I might end up needing another ally._

“Aw, poor guy,” DJ voiced Duncan’s thoughts as he pushed his fan mail aside. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Duncan reassured him. “I’ll handle it,” he scanned his pile of letters. 

“Really? That’s nice of you, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” Duncan found what he was looking for. “Let me just read this real quick…”

He opened up the envelope. The first thing he noticed was that it was much longer than any of the other letters he’d received. Sitting back in his bed, he began to read.

> Duncan,   
> I don’t want to sit down and write you this letter. I never want to talk to you, think of you, or hear your name ever again. I wish we never met. It seems that even now, when you’re gone, I can’t escape you. I see you on TV. They all talk about you, begging me to write to you, sort this out. Maybe if I send this to you, they’ll finally shut up, because I can’t listen to it anymore.   
> I don’t understand you, Duncan. I’ve tried. We’ve sat here for hours, days on end, trying to figure out why you did what you did, and we still don’t have an answer. You bled out in my arms. They carried you away. I thought you died. We all believed you were dead. That was really tough. You know how bad it is here. You know they all hate us. And to lose you on top of all that? Unbearable. We didn’t eat. We didn’t sleep. It was numbing. Mal started picking fights, just because he was so angry, he didn’t know what else to do. I don’t think I spoke to anyone outside the system for days. But, you know what? We survived. We got by. We were getting better.   
> Then, to turn on that TV screen and see you standing there? When my uniform’s still stained with your blood, just because nobody cares about me enough to get me a new one? How could you do that to me? You never even wrote. You let me think you were dead rather than reach out. Why? I just want to know, why would you do that?  
> Everyone here has their theories. Mal’s been writing you letters in a fit of rage, saying you faked your death because you hate me so much. Everybody’s been saying it’s a lie. I believe him. You know why? Sure, you can go on TV to rub it in my face that you’re still out there. I can’t blame you for being alive. But kissing that girl? I can blame you for that. Duncan, watching you kiss her broke my heart. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe it’s weak of me to tell you that. It hurt me so bad, to see you do that when you said you loved me. Were you lying? Was I just an object for you? Something you could use to pass the time?   
> I can’t believe I was so dumb to believe you ever cared about me. I was always there for you when you couldn’t sleep at night. I was the one who stuck around when you refused to eat. Every time you cried, whenever you were scared, all those times you were angry, and I never left you. What a waste. You’ve thrown it all away.   
> Everyone’s convinced you called the police on us. Maybe you did. The way things are going, we’ll probably get arrested again, not that it bothers you. I’m not bothering with the code names. You don’t deserve the extra effort.   
> Hopefully the last time,   
> Mike  
> P.S. I put all of your stuff in this envelope. I saved it from the police in case you ever came back. What a joke. Mal wanted to burn it, but I don’t even want the ashes in the same building as me. Do whatever you want with it. I don’t care.

Alongside the letter were a few old drawings that Duncan had almost forgotten about, but he couldn’t focus on them now. 

“Duncan,” DJ whispered to him. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good. Did something happen?”

Duncan put the letter back in the envelope, put the envelope in his pocket, stood up, and stumbled out of the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him.


	10. Catenarian

A/N Hi everyone! Alright, there’s three chapters (including this one) left in part one! Next chapter will be out Sunday the latest. I hope you enjoy. And heads up! The rest of part one is significantly darker and more graphic than the previous chapters. Everything is in the tags, but still. Here’s your warning. 

Chapter Ten

Catenarian: Of, like, or pertaining to chains. 

Duncan wasn’t entirely sure where he was going as he stepped out into the pitch black night, but he knew he couldn’t spend another moment in that cabin surrounded by those people. He walked, at first. He knew he couldn’t just start sprinting. God forbid someone looked out their cabin window and saw him running blindly towards the woods- then they might be tempted to follow him, and he definitely couldn’t handle that conversation. 

Once he was far away enough from the cabin that he was confident nobody could see him, he picked up speed, jogging, picking a trail leading through the trees, running, sprinting, ducking under branches, anything to keep moving. There was no way he’d be able to find his way back to his cabin, but he didn’t give a shit. As far as he was concerned, he was never going back. He was done. 

He came to a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by dense clusters of trees. Normally, he’d be on-edge alone in the woods in the middle of the night, but the only thing he could focus on was the envelope buried in his pocket. 

_Stupid, stupid, SO fucking stupid… God, how did I not see this coming? How did I not fucking realize this would happen?_

Duncan leaned against a tree so he could catch his breath, panting as he took the earbuds from his pocket, clicked them on, and waited for someone to speak. 

_Why the fuck did I listen to Chris? He doesn’t care about anyone! I’m not like that. I must be fucking delustional. I really thought I could hold it together? Ignore the letters? No chance in hell could I-_

“Duncan? What’s going on?” 

_MacNeil. Oh, well. I don’t give a shit._

“I’m quitting.”

“What?”

“I’m done. With everything. I quit.”

He shoved his other hand in his pocket and took out his lighter, flicking the sparkwheel over and over as he spoke to MacNeil. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m quitting the investigation. I’m ending things with Courtney. And I’m going home.”

“No, you’re not. You can’t.”

“Yes, I can. You can’t keep me here,” Duncan felt the friction from his lighter scrape against his thumb. He knew he sounded like a kid arguing with his dad, but he’d say anything to get out of there. 

“Duncan, you’re on an island. What, you’re gonna swim? Good luck with that. Now, what’s this actually about? Why do you have to go home? I’m busy over here.”

_I can’t tell him about the letter… he’ll want to read it, and I can’t have that. What if he finds out I’ve been hiding all those letters? He’ll lose his fucking mind. I could tell him about… Mike. Say I randomly remembered he existed. And I need to go home and see him. But MacNeil isn’t the type to be alright with that. He’d tell me to get over it._

“It’s personal.”

“You’re kidding me. That’s your big reason for interrupting our investigation? ‘It’s personal?’ No.”

“Stop it with the investigation!” Duncan stepped away from the tree and started pacing in circles. “This whole thing has been a waste of time. Nothing has happened! You think a serial killer is watching Total Drama? That’s his master plan?”

“Actually, we have made progress on this case as a direct result of this show.”

“Really? What? Besides that one letter, which I’m not convinced he even wrote, what else has happened?”

_Mike said… Mal? Wrote me a bunch of letters… but I only ever got one. Weird._

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you right now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Watch it,” MacNeil barked into the microphone.

“I won’t. This entire time, you’ve been leaving me in the dark? Fuck that. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“It’s not your job to know what’s going on,” MacNeil insisted. “Your job is to stay in the game. Which means you’re not breaking up with Courtney.”

“Yes, I am. As soon as possible.”

“I’m not here to talk about your teenage drama,” MacNeil was done with the conversation. “Here, talk to Walsh. Figure it out with her. I’m not dealing with this…”

“Fine.”

Duncan toed the ground, knowing that it didn’t matter who he spoke to. Nothing would happen without MacNeil’s approval. 

“Duncan? What’s going on?” Walsh asked, clearly confused. “You said you wanted to quit?”

“Yup. I’m done.”

“I can’t deal with him!” Duncan could hear MacNeil complain in the background. 

“Hang on, let me go somewhere else…” faint muffled sounds from the microphone showed that Walsh was scraping back from her chair and walking away from MacNeil, who was still ranting. “Alright, what’s going on?”

“I’m breaking up with Courtney.”

“That’s what this is about?”

“No…” he tried to organize his thoughts. “Yes. Partly. I just have some stuff I have to deal with. Back home. And you guys never tell me anything. So as far as I’m concerned, this whole thing has been useless.”

“It hasn’t. We’ve made progress, but I can’t tell you because you’re not officially employed by the Nova Scotia police. Nevermind that, why do you need to go home?”

“I’m not telling you,” Duncan studied the flickering flame of his lighter. “You’ll snitch to MacNeil.”

“If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.”

_I’m not getting anywhere with her. I wish I could write back to him, but I don’t even know where he is… he didn’t leave a return address. I could try to get on Chris’ computer and narrow down every juvie in Nova Scotia, but God forbid I write to the wrong person, I just can’t risk it. I don’t even have his last name. And I don’t think there’s any way they’re letting me off this island. I’ll have to send a message through the show. Let’s get rid of Courtney at least…_

“I’m ending things with Courtney,” Duncan switched tactics. 

“Why? You didn’t have a problem kissing her a few days ago,” Walsh observed.

“I can’t do it anymore. I thought I could, but I can’t. I don’t like her like that. And it’s not fair to either of us,” he threw in for good measure, just because it sounded like a solid reason. 

“And your sudden need to break up with her has nothing to do with your need to go home?”

“Nope,” he lied. 

“Duncan… is there someone else?” She asked softly.

_Holy shit, is she even allowed to ask me that? She must be breaking some sort of professional barrier. She’s not my therapist. God, I wish Dr. Walterson were here right now._

“What? Is that any of your business?”

“No… no. Probably not. I’m sorry,” she sounded mortified. “I just… look. MacNeil isn’t great with this kind of thing, so I’m not supposed to tell you this,” she lowered her voice even further, “but do you know someone named-”

“Yo! Are we talking about relationships over here? I love it! The drama? The emotion? All of it!” Chris’ voice cut her off. 

“Chris?” She sounded nervous. “Have you been listening in this whole time?”

“Bits and pieces, Officer! I think I cut you off, actually. What were you saying?”

“Nothing,” she answered quickly. “I’ll explain later.”

“Now, someone update me. What. Is. The. Drama?”

“I’m breaking up with Courtney,” Duncan explained.

“Of course,” Chris immediately accepted. “I saw that coming.”

“Wait, hang on,” Walsh tried to regain control of the situation. “We haven’t decided on that yet-”

“How are you gonna do it?” Chris wanted to know.

“I dunno. I’ll let her down easy.”

“Wait!” Walsh ordered. “Listen, you can't just dump her.”

“Why not?” Chris asked, ready to manipulate. “It seems pretty weird that you’re so invested in this kids personal life. Concerning, even. Does MacNeil know about this?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“So if Duncan has sex with Courtney, you want him to tell you? That’s strange. Considering they’re both minors and all that.”

“I never said-”

“Wait… did you tell him to have sex with her? Jeez, I didn’t know the Nova Scotia police department sanctioned that kind of thing.”

“They don’t!”

“Oh. Because that’s what it sounds like. Right, Duncan?”

“Of course, Chris. The police told me to kiss her. They even gave me a script.”

_Come to think of it, that’s pretty fucked up…_

“Fine,” Walsh hissed. “I was trying to do you a favor, but clearly you have to throw it back at me. Break up with her, I don’t care. Just don’t get voted off the show.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Chris reassured her, although his voice now had a strange echo. “He won’t be voted off.”

“Good. Just don’t screw this up,” she was much more pissed off than she had been when they started the conversation. 

“Of course not, officer!” Chris sang as she turned off her microphone. “Fucking bitch…” he whispered. 

“Chris, why does your voice keep echoing?” Duncan asked. 

“Turn around.”

Sure enough, Chris was standing in the dark woods, watching as Duncan paced in circles. 

“Oh my God!” Duncan jumped back, nearly dropping his lighter and burning his hand. “Have you been standing there the whole time?”

“Nah, just a little while!” Chris beamed. “When I heard you guys on the radio thing, I had to find you. For the drama. So… what’s actually going on?”

_Do I tell him? He’s tough to manipulate, you can’t bullshit a bullshitter…_

“I know you’re trying to come up with an excuse,” Chris frowned. “But if you don’t tell me, I’m not wasting my time trying to keep you in the game.”

“Fine. What happened is that I followed your terrible advice,” Duncan sighed as he dug into his pocket, pulling out the envelope. “Here,” he handed it over to Chris, “read it for yourself.”

“Ooh, another letter?” Chris smiled in delight. “Let’s see…” he took out his cell phone and flipped it open, using the light from his screen to illuminate the paper. Duncan stared down at the ground, waiting for Chris to finish. Usually, Duncan would watch, but he felt too vulnerable this time. 

“Ah. Um. Here you go,” Chris handed the letter back, not even wanting to be near it anymore.

“What do you think?” 

“Dunno. I’m not really a ‘feelings’ guy,” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I didn’t think it’d get this real, to be honest. Sorry. I’d run for the hills.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Wait, you’re breaking up with Courtney for… what’s his name?”

“Mike.”

“And you don’t know him.”

“Nope.”

“Or what he looks like.”

“I guess not.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I read the letter, then I got really sad, and… I had this flashback, right? When I was kissing Courtney, and then I felt even worse, and I missed this Mike guy, but I didn’t _realize_ that I missed him because I didn’t know he existed, and I now I have a chance to find out who he is, and maybe he can help me get more of my memories back, but now Courtney’s in the way and Mike hates me and I probably ruined whatever we had together-”

“Duncan,” Chris cut him off, “I’ll be honest. I don’t really care.”

“Then- what the fuck, Chris? What was all that about ‘the drama’?”

“Yeah. I love the drama. But… I already said, this is too real. So… I don’t know how to help you.”

“You don’t have to help me, you just have to stand there while I talk. Maybe offer a few words? I’m not just here to entertain you.”

“What do you mean?” Chris looked at him, a blank expression on his face. “That’s the only reason any of you guys are here. The rest of the contestants, at least. To entertain the audience. And in a way… I guess you and the police have entertained me.”

“You fucking sociopath,” Duncan took a step back. “You don’t care at all what happens to me, do you?”

“No, I do care,” Chris insisted. “I care about the stories. I care what happens. But I’m not invested in some random teenager. Sorry,” he shrugged.

“So you don’t feel anything?”

“Don’t get emotional about this,” Chris sighed, obviously annoyed. “You want some advice? Stop caring so much. If you’re breaking up with Courtney, just do it. And don’t accuse me of not feeling anything. You know I’ve never seen you smile?”

“I’ve smiled.”

“Fine, I’ll take it back. I’ve never seen you smile in a way that wasn’t sarcastic, or fake, or putting someone else down. I’ve never seen you smile because you were genuinely happy. So don’t come at me because I don’t want to give life advice to a sixteen year old I barely know.”

_How dare he… Trying to psychoanalyze me like that… He has no idea what I’ve been dealing with… He has the easiest job in the world, watching teenagers torture themselves on TV while he gets to sit back and watch… That fucking bastard thinks he can say whatever the fuck he wants?_

“You know what your problem is, Chris?” Duncan took a step forward, putting the letter and his lighter in his pocket. “Every time things get too ‘real,’ you run off and hide because you can’t handle it. That must be rough, huh? How does anyone get close to you? I guess they just don’t.”

“You want to go there, Duncan? You fucking punk, think of where you’d be without this show! Still in juvie, with the boyfriend you cheated on and the deranged lunatic sending you death threats? Back with your parents, who haven’t written to you once?”

“And I’m sure your parents are just fawning over you, Chris. Hosting trash reality TV for wannabee teenagers? Really making them proud. When was the last time they called?”

_Total shot in the dark. I’m really hoping his parents don’t speak to him, or I’ll look like a complete idiot._

“Have you lost your fucking-”

“Go ahead. Hit me. I’m sure you’ll love the lawsuit.”

“You could never afford to sue me, jackass.”

Still, Chris backed down a bit, stopping to take a deep breath. 

“Look,” he glared at Duncan, “I’m done with this. My only job is to keep you in the game. I’m not here to be your friend. Figure out what you’re going to do, and get your shit together,” he turned and began to walk back through the woods. “I sure hope you know how to get back to your cabin!”

_...Fuck. No idea. I came from… there, I think._

Duncan looked around the clearing for a moment longer, checked to make sure he still had the envelope and lighter in his pocket, and started to make his way out of the woods in what he hoped was the right direction. 

_Now they all hate me… Chris, Walsh, MacNeil… Mike… probably Courtney, after tomorrow. But at least I can break up with her. And Chris will get over it. He did after our last fight. He doesn’t like dealing with this type of thing, so he’ll pretend like nothing happened. Fuck whatever the cops think. God, it’s creepy out here. I’m sure everyone at the cabin is asleep._

He tried to focus on getting out of the woods without running into any rabid animals. The leaves prevented any moonlight from lighting the way, and he didn’t want to use up all the juice in his lighter, so he stumbled around in the dark for a bit before finding the correct trail back to the cabins. He couldn’t hear any noise from inside, so he turned the knob and pushed the door, noticing it wasn’t locked. 

_I’m sure Chris isn’t allowed to put a lock on these things… and it was probably cheaper not to._

Leaning against the door, flinching at every creaking noise echoing throughout the room, he entered the cabin and shut the door behind him. He crept towards his bed, careful not to bump into anything in the complete darkness. Sitting in bed, he finally relaxed. He had no idea what time it was, but it had to be past midnight. 

“Hey… Duncan?” DJ whispered from his bed. 

“Yeah?”

“You good?”

“Yeah, man. I will be.”

“Good. Goodnight.”

“Night, DJ.”

_I’d be upset if he got voted off… He’s the only person I can think of that genuinely hasn’t done anything to deserve it._

Duncan took the letter from his pocket and put it in his suitcase with the others, then added his earbuds. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, back against the wall, he looked over at Courtney, barely able to see her outline in the dark. He focused on the floor. Already, he could tell he wasn’t sleeping tonight. 

_How am I going to do this… I have to be nice to her. Meaning, I can’t tell her the truth. She’ll lose her fucking mind, and probably tell everyone, and then I’ll look like some sort of cheating asshole. And I don’t know what these people believe in… someone could try and beat me up, I don’t know. I couldn’t picture DJ doing that, but Geoff? Trent? Actually, Trent would probably be thrilled I’m not gonna threaten his relationship… but he might also beat the shit out of me. It would definitely be social suicide. The girls would ban together and vote me off. I’d be the ex-boyfriend who played with their friend's heart, or some shit like that. And Courtney isn’t stupid. She knows something happened tonight. I can’t make up some act where I say she’s too good for me, she’ll see right through it. No, I have to do something convincing. A lie that she can’t possibly question. If she saw me open that letter… I can say it was one of my parents. Something happened at home. It’s serious. I might have to leave the show. I’m sorry, Courtney, I just can’t be in a relationship… Tears well up in my eyes. It’s just… a family thing. I can’t say what exactly, you know, because of the cameras, and it’s private… Sorry, give me a moment. I wipe at my eyes. It’s too much to even talk about. She knows she can’t pry, or she’ll look like a bitch. She has no choice but to let me go. It’s foolproof. But I have to commit. I can’t break. I have to sell it, or the whole thing will fall apart. Maybe Mike will see it, if that happens to get recorded. He might get the message._

_Speaking of… is he hot? I mean, he must be. I did… date… him, after all. So he can’t be that bad. And who is Mal? I still don’t understand how he factors in. Or the other people who wrote those letters. Because we thought Mal was the ex… but then he dropped off the face of the earth… but according to Mike, he’s been writing letters and losing his mind this whole time? I don’t know when I can meet all of these people again… I guess whenever I get voted off this stupid show. Which won’t be for a while. Who knows if Mike will even be willing to talk to me._

Duncan didn’t fall asleep until he could see the sun peeking through the boarded-up windows, which gave him the perfect excuse to skip breakfast the next morning. 

“Nah, you guys go ahead,” he insisted when Geoff asked him to join them. “I didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“Whatever, man,” Geoff shrugged. 

“Courtney,” Duncan managed to catch her before she left. 

“Hmm?”

“Before you go running after breakfast… we need to talk, alright? Alone.”

“Sure,” she didn’t seem too bothered. “I always come back here to get changed anyways.”

“Perfect.”

_She must not know what’s coming. She didn’t even seem nervous. Then again, she’s good at hiding that type of thing._

He watched as his team left the cabin. Burying his face into his pillow, he dozed off, aware it was his last hour as Courtney’s sort-of-boyfriend. 

“Duncan?”

“Wha-?”

“You wanted to talk?”

Courtney was looking down at him in his bed. 

_Shit, that was fast… Alright, showtime. This has to be absolutely perfect. Walsh isn’t here to guide me. I can do this on my own. Where do I start?_

“Ah, sorry, Courtney,” he got out from under his covers and rubbed his eyes. “I fell asleep…” he looked around the cabin. “We’re alone?”

“Yep.”

He sat down on top of his covers. 

“Sorry,” he yawned. “I didn’t sleep last night. At all, actually,” he ran his hands through his hair. 

“Why not?” She was still staring.

“Heads up, this might be a long conversation.”

Taking the hint, she sat down on DJ’s bed, which was opposite Duncan’s.

_Here we go. No going back._

“Why didn’t you sleep?” She repeated. 

_I have to make myself cry. No other option._

“Rough night. It was…It was a really bad night, Courtney,” he looked down at his hands. “And… look, I want to be honest with you, and I just need you to listen, alright?”

“What’s going on?”

“I need to end things between us.”

_Look at your hands… Look at your hands… And, look up at her._

She was staring at him, completely taken aback. He was right. She had no idea this was coming. 

“I don’t… why? What happened?”

“Nothing with you. And not in the fake way that people say ‘it’s not you.’ I mean… I’m sorry, it’s really hard to talk about this,” he smiled wryly. “I’m trying, I promise. Last night. I got a letter.”

“You ran out of the cabin.”

He nodded.

“It was from my dad. And it’s just… there’s some stuff going on at home, and in the letter, he… sorry,” he took a shaky breath. 

_Gotta cry. It’s a catch-all. Bad boy cries in front of good girl? She can’t shoot that down. Think of something sad… What could dad tell me that would make me upset? A lot of stuff, I guess. Logan is my go-to sad memory. Hell, I can’t think about him without crying, how he left without saying goodbye. He could be dead for all I know, and he doesn’t even care enough about me to write a letter. He’s an adult now, he knows how rough it is at home, and still. Nothing._

That did the trick. Duncan could feel his eyes water. 

“I’m sorry, Courtney. I can’t be in a relationship right now,” he wiped his eyes.

“What happened?” She wanted to know. 

_I mean, dad hasn’t mentioned him since the hospital. That was a mess… The whole ‘depression’ conversation. What am I supposed to do about that? Dad didn’t believe me. He blamed me for everything, said I was lazy. Ma said I was hiding things from her. There’s no way they’ll let me go to therapy, or put me on meds. They’re never going to mention it. Fuck, am I going to be like this forever? Lifelong depression, and they think it’s my fault._

“Duncan?” Courtney asked softly.

_Fuck, maybe it is. I should’ve coped better. I don’t know anyone who goes to therapy, or needs meds to function. How fucking weak am I? So goddamn pathetic, cutting my thighs on my bedroom floor. I should’ve ended it then. Would’ve saved me a lot of fucking trouble. I deserve this. I have no one to blame but myself._

He had completely forgotten Courtney was sitting across from him, spiraling into a vortex of thoughts he couldn’t escape from. 

_And Mike… what the fuck do I do with him? He fucking hates me. Whatever. It’s not like I can ever bring him around. My dad would go ballistic. Claim I was trying to embarrass him in front of his colleagues. Like it was all a ruse to piss him off, just so he’d be known as the cop with the faggot son. He’ll never accept me. My own fucking dad, and he already hates me. God forbid I tell him this? And my mom would never stand up for me. She’d rather let me sleep on the streets then say a word against him. I’m fucked. I will truly, never be happy unless I cut off all ties with my family. And then I’ll be homeless. So I’m trapped._

“Duncan!” Courtney yelled at him. “Please… calm down! Please… it’s ok. Really. We can break up. Just relax. You’re scaring me.”

He looked up at her, surprised to hear her voice. 

“Oh. Sorry,” he wiped his face to realize he had been sobbing. 

“It’s ok. I understand you have a lot to work through. Obviously. You might want to get some tissues or something.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this,” he pleaded with her. “I’m just telling you because I want us to stay close… platonically.”

“I won't.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Sorry again.”

“I’m gonna go now,” she was clearly uncomfortable with his grandiose display of emotion. “Running, you know.”

“Yeah… yeah. You do that.”

“I’ll see you later. Good luck with… whatever you’re dealing with.”

“Thanks. Thank you.”

“Hmm-hmm.”

She left the cabin to go for her run, meaning he was alone again. He laid back down, then immediately got back up, deciding he needed to wash his face. 

_Fuck, that was overkill. That was way too much. But it worked. So I can’t complain._

He waited a few more moments to make sure he was done crying, then left the cabin to go to the bathroom, praying he didn’t run into anybody. 

_Jesus Christ, what just happened? That was so embarrassing, I totally broke down. Oh my God, I’m gonna vomit. They better not air that. I don’t think they can, the audience would be way too uncomfortable. I was supposed to shed a few tears maximum!_

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty when Duncan opened the door. One glance in the mirror revealed that he looked like total shit. His eyes were bloodshot, the dark bags on his skin stood out more than usual, and no surprise, he cried off all his eyeliner. His friends back home would bring it up occasionally, but only under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom could he fully see how pale he was. It should be expected from somebody who rarely went outside, and he never tanned anyways, only burned. Still, he looked kind of sickly. 

He ran some cold water over a paper towel and pressed it over his face, trying to make his eyes look acceptable. When he got them to a state where he could go back outside, he reapplied his eyeliner and took a breath, trying to figure out what to do next. He needed to eat something. Breakfast ended long ago, but there might be something left over. Stepping back outside, he left for the mess hall, opting to walk through the woods just so Courtney wouldn’t pass him on one of the trails. 

The mess hall was empty when he opened the doors, save for Chef, who was standing behind the counter. 

“Breakfast is over, kid,” Chef didn’t even look up at him. 

“Figured I may as well try.”

“Yeah, well- jeez, what happened to you?” Chef looked up at him and recoiled when he saw Duncan’s face. 

_Guess I still look like a mess._

“Rough night, Chef.”

“Right… Chris told me about that.”

“Oh.”

“Take this,” Chef tossed part of a loaf of bread at him. 

“What’s this for?”

“That’s your breakfast. Chris can be a lot to deal with.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Don’t tell anyone where you got it from,” Chef threatened. 

“I won’t,” Duncan reassured him.

“Good. Now, get out of here. I have to work on a challenge. Don’t say anything!”

“I won’t!” Duncan repeated, backing away until he was outside again. Picking off pieces of bread, he walked back through the woods towards his cabin. It wasn’t store-bought bread, but the type you’d find in a bakery somewhere. 

_Weird. We never get food this nice._

Duncan spent the rest of the day in the cabin. He didn’t have the physical or emotional strength to deal with anyone. Since everybody else was outside with their friends, he took the opportunity to dig his sketchbook from his suitcase and draw. He mostly focused on his teammates, which meant he’d be absolutely fucked if anybody found his sketchbook. The drawings weren’t inappropriate or anything, but people tended to get creeped out. So when the door opened later that evening and everyone else filtered back in, he made sure the sketchbook was nowhere to be seen. 

He didn’t have any issues falling asleep that night, considering the fact that he basically pulled an all-nighter. It was probably the first time he wasn’t the last of his teammates to stay awake. 

“Good morning, campers! Head to the mess hall for your next challenge!” Chris announced the next morning. 

Courtney didn’t say a word to Duncan on the walk over. He didn’t blame her. If somebody was breaking up with him, and then they had a full-fledged sobbing breakdown, he’d be pretty weirded out too. 

_I hope she didn’t say anything to anyone. Nobody’s mentioned anything…_

“Listen up, everyone!” Chris shouted once all of the campers were gathered in the kitchen of the mess hall. “Today, you will be participating in a cooking competition! Each team has a table full of ingredients,” he gestured to two tables covered by tarps. “You will need to make an appetizer, dinner, and dessert! I will be judging your meals, and each team will nominate a head chef to present the food during judging! Are you ready? And… go!”

Geoff yanked the tarp off of the Killer Bass table to reveal an array of food that Duncan had no idea what to do with. 

_This isn’t my area of expertise… like, at all._

“So, do any of you guys like to cook?” Bridgette stared at the ingredients, confused as well. 

“Um, I might have some ideas,” DJ offered shly.

“Oh, we should do an Italian theme!” Geoff declared. “We definitely have the ingredients for it. I’ll be our head chef!”

“Sure, Geoff,” DJ smiled, annoyed that Geoff talked over him, but too scared of creating conflict to do anything about it. 

“Right, maybe we can pair up?” Sadie offered. “Split ourselves up by course?”

“Very efficient,” Courtney nodded. 

But nobody moved. 

_Huh… I can’t go with Courtney. Bridgette doesn’t want to go with Geoff. DJ doesn’t want to go with Geoff either, because he can actually cook, and Geoff will steamroll the whole thing. I don’t want to risk pairing with Bridgette or Sadie, in case Courtney told them something. I can’t risk fucking up the main course with DJ. So that leaves me with…_

“Harold?” Duncan asked. “Pair up? I’m sure we can manage the dessert?”

“Duncan,” Harold stared at him, “I have a badge in making custard tarts.”

“Ah… good for you.”

“Bridgette, you’re with me!” Geoff cheered. 

“Fine,” she sighed. “Um, great, Geoff! Sounds good!”

“Do you guys mind if I work on the main course?” DJ asked. “Courtney, Sadie, I’d love your help?”

“Of course!” Sadie gushed. 

“Sure,” Courtney didn’t seem to care. “But you better be a good cook! We are not about to lose our winning streak!”

Duncan was beyond grateful that Harold knew what he was doing, because the concept of cooking any sort of dessert was completely foreign to him. 

“So first, we have to make the crust,” Harold explained. 

_Huh… I’m not even sure what a tart looks like._

“Of course.”

“So crack these eggs,” Harold shoved two eggs into his hands, “put them into that bowl, and whisk them.”

_I wonder if he’s upset about Leshawna… I was going to talk to him about it, but I never got the chance._

Duncan tried to crack the eggs without getting any pieces of shell in the bowl, then resorted to picking them out with the whisk. Harold busied himself with measuring out random powders, so Duncan took the chance to watch the other team. 

“Hey, Lindsay? Can you come here for a moment?” Heather asked in a calm voice.

“Sure!” She moved to the corner with Heather. “What’s up?”

“Just a quick question… what’s this?” Heather gestured to a bowl on a nearby counter. 

“A bowl.”

“I know that, Lindsay,” Heather smiled. “But you know how there’s all that vanilla inside?”

“Yup! I put in fifty milliliters, just like it said on the measuring cup!”

“Five! You were supposed to put in five milliliters!”

“Ohhh. I see.”

“Lindsay, are you fucking stupid? Because sometimes, I swear you are,” Heather took the bowl of vanilla and dumped it all over the floor. “Fix it.”

Heather stormed off to work on her dish, leaving Lindsay to clean up the mess of vanilla. 

“Alright, Duncan, now we have to put the dough in the fridge to chill,” Harold explained. 

“What? Why? Aren’t we just going to cook it anyways?”

“Trust me, this is how Paula Deen does it.”

“Who’s that?”

“She has a cooking show… um, I mean, I don’t know. Some American woman, my mom watches her on TV, I barely even remember her name.”

“Alright, dude. Sure.”

“I’ll take this,” Harold grabbed the bowl of dough, grateful to be out of there. 

“Careful,” Duncan noted that Lindsay did a shit job cleaning up the vanilla. “Floor’s a bit slippy.” 

“Thanks.”

At the same time, the Gophers descended further into chaos. 

“Trent, catch!” Beth yelled as she lobbed a box of oranges at him, knocking him out instantly. 

“Oh, shit,” Gwen knelt down beside him. “Are you alright?”

“What… Um, I…” he slurred. 

“And, that’s one concussion for the Gophers!” Chris announced. 

“Chris!” Gwen snapped at him. “He needs help!”

“Fine,” Chris groaned. “I’ll call the medics.”

_So Trent is fucked. Sorry, dude._

“We have to make the custard…” Harold observed. “Do you know how?”

“Seriously? No.”

“Do you want to cut up the fruit? Make it look nice?”

“Fine. I can do that.”

Duncan took whatever fruit he could find, a mix of oranges, strawberries, and different colored grapes, and got to work. He didn’t know if the tarts were all supposed to look the same, but since Chris was judging the contest, Duncan tried to pick a theme that would appeal to him. 

_Too bad I can’t convey the fact that he’s a huge asshole through our custard tarts, or we’d lose the challenge..._

“Uh, dude, what are you doing?” Harold asked as he stared at the fruit spread across the counter. 

“Trust me, Harold, I’ve got this covered…”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna put the dough in the oven.”

“Sure thing…” Duncan tried to envision the tarts spread out before him. There wasn’t much he could do without the custard, so he figured he’d take a look at the rest of his team. Geoff and Bridgette put together some sort of pizza configuration as their appetizer. 

“Pretty good, yeah?” Geoff smiled proudly. “We wanted to make more, but the loaf of bread had a huge chunk taken out of it.”

“Ah… weird.”

For his part, DJ baked a lasagna, which Duncan didn’t even know was possible to do from scratch. As it turns out, his mastery of cooking, combined with Courtney’s commitment to winning and Sadie’s constant positivity, ended up creating the perfect main course. 

“Here, you can start decorating these…” Harold handed over the tarts one by one as he finished filling them with custard. Duncan layered the fruit, trying to create his intended design.

“One minute remaining!” Chris announced. 

“Hurry up,” Geoff urged. 

“I know, I know…” Duncan kept moving. 

“And… time!”

“Done!”

“Alright, campers! Let’s see what you have! Screaming Gophers, you’re up first! Present your head chef!”

“Um… it was supposed to be Heather,” Gwen looked around. “But I guess she’s not here, so I’ll do it.”

“Gwen! Don’t you dare!” Heather’s muffled voice came from the nearby walk-in freezer.

“This is our appetizer,” Gwen gestured to a sorry looking plate of sandwiches. 

“Let’s see,” Chris took a bite, which he immediately spat back out. “Oh my God, what is this?”

“Um, it’s supposed to be ham, cheese-”

“There’s fish in this,” Chris observed. “And oranges.”

“Oh. Trent helped too. And he’s concussed. So he might have gotten mixed up with the ingredients.”

“Sorry,” Trent murmured from the floor, where he was curled up in a ball with an ice pack. 

“And where’s your main course?”

Gwen looked expectantly at Cody and Noah, who stared back like a pair of deer caught in headlights. 

“What?” Noah whispered. 

“Where’s the food?”

“Oh. We don’t have it.”

“What?”

“Um,” he cleared his throat. “We don’t have it.”

“Where did it go?” Gwen waved her arms frantically. 

“You see, Chris,” Cody was on damage-control, “we don’t have the main course. Heather poured a ton of vanilla on the flour, so the floor was pretty slippery…”

“You can see where this is going,” Noah stepped in. “But you could probably imagine what the food tasted like and just grade us based on that?”

“What’s he saying?” Heather screamed from the freezer. 

“Zero points for the main course!” Chris announced. 

“God damnit, Noah!” Heather screeched at him. 

“I don’t know what you expected, honestly,” Noah yelled back at her. “Why would you give me the most important job?”

_Heather didn’t yell at Cody… Even though he might have been the one to drop it. Weird…_

“And your dessert?” Chris asked.

“Here you go!” Lindsay sang. “We made sugar cookies!”

Gwen gave the tray to Chris, who picked one up. 

“Well, at least this looks good- it’s disgusting. These cookies are horrific. What did you do?”

“Lindsay, how much vanilla did you put?” Heather demanded to know.

“Fifty milliliters, like you said!”

“That’s the opposite of what I said!”

“And the final score for the Screaming Gophers is… four points! Wait, what’s this tiki idol doing here?”

“Oh!” Beth smiled. “That’s for decoration! I brought it back from Boney Island!”

“Beth, are you fucking kidding me!” Heather was going ballistic in the freezer. 

“Huh,” Chris nodded. “That’s probably why your team has been losing. You cursed everybody. Anyways, moving on, Killer Bass!”

“Watch how hardcore I can bullshit this,” Geoff whispered to Duncan.

“Good luck.”

“On it!” Geoff stepped forward, a smile on his face. “For our meal, we decided to go with an Italian theme, but we decided to add a twist to really showcase the local cuisine of our team-members. Here’s our appetizer, a California-style pizza. Bridgette and I feel that this blend of Italian flavors with modern American toppings highlights the fusion of cultures that we experience in our home state of California.”

_Wow, he’s hitting all the buzzwords._

“And over here, DJ, Courtney, and Sadie put together a lasagna made from scratch. Although these three members of our team all hail from different ethnic backgrounds, they’ve all contributed something from their respective cultures to this lasagna, coming together to create a perfect mix.”

“Really?” Duncan whispered to DJ.

“Nah,” DJ whispered back. “I saw this recipe on Rachel Ray.”

“And lastly, we have Duncan and Harold, who created custard tarts for dessert. On each tart, Duncan arranged the fruit in the shape of an island. Is this to represent Total Drama Island? Yes, but perhaps there’s another layer. Could this tart not reflect the importance of water in the Maritimes? An economically crucial resource that has been contaminated by human greed?”

_Jesus Christ, dude._

“Well, the food is pretty good,” Chris chewed on the lasagna. “I’m giving you guys… 22 points! And you win a gourmet breakfast tomorrow morning!”

“Yes!” Courtney cheered. 

_Fuck! No! Why do we have to have a breakfast?_

“Gophers, I’ll see you at elimination tonight! And… someone let Heather out of the freezer? I don’t want her to sue.”

“Beth!” Heather screamed the moment she was let out of the freezer. “I can’t believe you cursed this team!”

“I didn’t know!”

The Killer Bass left the room before they were caught in the middle of an all-out screaming match. With nothing else to do and the day basically over, they went back to their cabin. Chris let them have the rest of their leftovers, which was the best food they had eaten in weeks. 

“DJ, great job, man,” Geoff smiled at him. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” DJ waved him off. 

“The islands looked good,” Courtney smiled. 

“Thanks. Harold did all of the hard work,” Duncan explained. “He even has a badge for it.”

_She complimented me… Maybe she doesn’t hate me. Or at least, she pities me. Which might be preferable. It’ll stop her from telling everyone about my breakdown._

It wasn’t his worst night, it wasn’t his best night. It didn’t take him five hours to fall asleep, which he always appreciated. Compared to the chaos of the past few days, it was nice to lie in bed and know there wasn’t some horrible disaster waiting for him the next morning. 

Except for breakfast. 

_Shit. Breakfast._

“Who’s ready for breakfast!” Geoff cheered as he leapt out of bed. “Come on, guys! We’ve earned this!”

_No getting out of this one…_

Duncan followed his teammates down to the mess hall. He saw Harold staring down at the ground as he walked, which was unusual for him, since he always boasted about ‘always being prepared for an attack from any angle.’

“You good?” Duncan asked him.

“Hmm? Yeah,” Harold shook his head. “It’s all good.”

“So… this has nothing to do with Leshawna?”

“What?” Harold looked up at him, completely taken aback. 

“It’s alright. I know it sucks she was voted off.”

“Yeah… I just miss having her around, you know?”

“I don’t think any of us expected her to get voted off-”

“You think so too?” Harold grabbed onto Duncan’s arm, preventing him from moving. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Listen. Meet me later. Outside. The woods. Evening. Don’t say a word. I’ll give you a signal.”

“Uh… sure thing, man.”

_Fucking weirdo..._

Breakfast wasn’t too bad. The food was decent. Chef made pancakes, which proved that he did know how to cook, he just didn’t give a shit if the campers went hungry. 

“Guys, we have to keep up our winning streak!” Courtney ordered. 

“Who was voted off last night?” Geoff asked. 

“Beth,” Sadie informed him. “Because of the whole ‘evil idol’ thing.”

“Makes sense,” he nodded. 

_Of course, Heather is still here… You know, shit. I never looked at those drawings Mike sent over. I totally forgot about them. I should take a look…_

After breakfast, he walked back up the trail towards the cabin. He took his time, since Courtney would be getting ready, and he still wasn’t sold on the idea of being alone with her. So, he walked as slow as possible on the way back.

When he reached the cabin, he gently opened the door, making sure nobody else was around. After seeing the coast was clear, he walked over to his suitcase and took out the most recent envelope. He ignored the letter and focused on the drawings. 

_Shit, I remember these… I didn’t know I brought them to juvie with me. I guess they were too important to leave at home, God forbid dad found them…_

One in particular stood out to him the most. It was a drawing of him and his older brothers. He had drawn it last year, right before Charlie was arrested. It took much longer than his other drawings, since he had no idea what Logan looked like nowadays. He scoured the house for old pictures of him, eventually finding a few in his mother’s closet, and then guessed what he’d look like aged up five years. 

_It was nice of Mike not to destroy it, I guess… It’s the only picture I have of him, and it’s not even a picture._

“Duncan!” Harold flung open the cabin door. 

“Jesus Christ, Harold! Don’t you knock?” Duncan quickly put the drawings back in his suitcase. 

_I mean, what if I was jerking off or something? Then what?_

“It’s time. Come with me.”

“I thought you said we were meeting during the evening?” Duncan got up and followed Harold out of the cabin.

“You thought that was the real meeting time? I said that in case anybody was listening in,” Harold explained like this was obvious. “Anyways, you think something happened with Leshawna’s elimination?” Harold led Duncan through the woods, constantly looking for anybody who might be watching. 

“I dunno,” Duncan shrugged. “I think something’s up with that team.”

“How so?” Harold squinted his eyes. 

“Well, everyone’s hated Heather from day one, right? But she’s still in the game, even though on the surface it seems like there’s always more than enough people to vote her off. I don’t know, it’s just strange.”

“Duncan,” Harold looked incredibly serious. “I think we have a major conspiracy on our hands.”

“...Really? I mean, I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“Something’s going on,” Harold already made up his mind. 

“Harold, look. I agree it’s a right weird pattern, but I don’t know if it’s a conspiracy. I mean, what are you planning on doing?”

“Nothing,” Harold smiled. “Duncan, when you’re trying to solve a conspiracy, you can’t just run in there. That’s how they get you.”

“Of course. How did I not realize that?”

“You have to hang back, alright? Observe.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll observe.”

“Good. Don’t screw this up,” he ordered, as if Duncan wanted to be there in the first place. 

The rest of the day was uneventful. Duncan had no desire to talk with any of the Gophers, so he suffered through a few hours of conversation with his own team members. Bridgette was starting to warm up to Geoff, which was unfortunate because it would make him that much harder to vote off. Normally, Duncan would discuss the matter with Courtney, but that was a no-go. 

It was a depressing thought- somehow, he was quickly running out of friends. He didn’t blame Courtney, of course. Looking around the cabin, he wondered who would be the next to get voted off. 

_Eh… I guess I’d vote for Sadie. I think my vote would be wasted on Geoff, just because nobody else would vote for him._

It was an underwhelming night where he spoke to nobody and sat with his own thoughts far past everybody else’s bedtime. 

_I wonder if Mike will write to me anytime soon… Maybe he stopped watching the show altogether. That would suck. All of this would’ve been for nothing._

“Good morning, campers!” Chris announced early the next morning. “I hope you’re ready to go, because you have a full day ahead of you! Meet me at the docks, pronto!”

_God, I’m not feeling this right now. And I’m not bringing those earbuds. Fuck it._

The team trudged down to the docks, where Chris stood with a huge smile on his face. 

“Welcome, everybody! Today, you’re going to be testing the trust amongst your teammates!”

“Are you sure about that?” Gwen looked at Heather.

“Shut up, Gwen.”

“No interruptions! As I was saying, you will have three challenges! Whichever team wins the best out of three will win for the day! Now, if you’ll all look up there,” he gestured to a nearby rocky cliff. As he did so, he passed by Duncan, putting something in his hands while the other campers were distracted. “The first challenge will be to climb this rock face! One camper from your team will climb, and the other will belay!” 

_What is this… Sunglasses. And his stupid earbuds. There’s really no escape, huh?_

Duncan put on both.

“This challenge will be Gwen and Heather verses Duncan and DJ!”

_Fuck. Fine._

“Who wants to climb?” Duncan asked DJ. 

“I’ll do it,” DJ offered. “I’m taller. I’ll go faster. No offense.”

“Go for it,” Duncan smiled, relieved he didn’t have to climb. It just wasn’t his thing. He tied himself into his gear, ready to belay DJ up the cliff. 

“Here,” DJ handed Bunny over to Bridgette. “Watch him for a bit?”

“Sure!” She was delighted. 

“Ready, and… go!” Chris yelled. DJ was supposedly scared of heights, which probably motivated him to move faster. Chris sprayed hot sauce in Duncan and Heather’s eyes, which didn’t bother him too much due to the glasses. 

_Right… he’s still obligated to help me out. Even if he can’t stand me. And I probably can’t help with the investigation if I’m blind. So I guess Heather just gets fucked over?_

In the end, Gwen tore her skirt and revealed her underwear, which embarrassed DJ so much that he let go of the rocks, sending Duncan flying upwards. 

“And, the Screaming Gophers win!”

“Uh, sorry guys,” DJ blushed.

The second part of the challenge took place in the kitchen. Duncan paid absolutely no attention the entire time. Something about eating a poison fish. He didn’t have to do anything, so he didn’t really give a shit.

“Duncan,” Walsh’s voice crackled through the earbuds. “Clear your throat if you can hear me.”

_Fuck, here we go again…_

He did as he was told. 

“Listen, after the next challenge, so… the day after tomorrow, come to Chris’ mansion. We need to talk in person. And there’s someone you need to speak with.”

_God, probably another fucking cop… MacNeil probably got sick of me and quit, and now I have to meet his replacement. Fantastic._

Whatever this challenge was, the Killer Bass won. Apparently Bridgette and Lindsay had to cook poison fish for Geoff and Trent. Geoff was fine. Trent collapsed. Duncan didn’t mind. 

“Dude, Bridgette, that was so awesome!” Geoff beamed as they left the kitchen and stepped into the sunlight. “Seriously.”

“Aw, thanks,” she smiled. “It was nothing, really. I know all about animals. Studying to be a vet and all. That’s why I’m so good at taking care of this guy,” she lifted up Bunny to look at him. “Isn’t that right, Bunny? Aren’t I-”

Out of nowhere, a hawk rocketed down from the sky and snatched Bunny in his talons. As he flew away over the water, a shark leapt from below the surface and devoured both animals. Then, that shark was attacked by an even bigger shark, who tore it into bloody shreds of flesh. 

“Oh, fuck,” Geoff stared at the red water. 

_That’s just great. It’s almost poetic._

“What do we do?” Bridgette began to panic.

_‘We?’ This one was all you._

“You can’t tell DJ. He’ll freak out,” Geoff insisted. “Just… I don’t know. Uhh…”

“Hey, guys!” DJ stepped out of the mess hall kitchen. “What’s up? Oh, Bridgette! Can I have Bunny back?”

“Bunny? Uh… He…”

_These people are fucking hopeless._

“Bunny ran away,” Duncan explained. “Into the woods. Geoff and Bridgette were just telling me.”

“Really?” DJ stared at Geoff and Bridgette with wide eyes.

“...yup,” Geoff agreed.

_I’ll just catch him another rabbit. It’s not a huge deal. He won’t even be able to tell the difference. They look the exact same._

Still, DJ was absolutely crushed, so they were lucky he didn’t have to compete in the last challenge. 

“For your last challenge, you will compete blindfolded! You will have to knock an arrow off of your partner’s head using an apple!”

“Don’t you have that reversed?” Courtney asked. 

“I don’t want a lawsuit, Courtney!” Chris smiled. “Speaking of which, you and Sadie will be competing for the Killer Bass, while… who’s left? Cody and Noah, you guys will compete for the Screaming Gophers!”

“I’m a great shot!” Sadie insisted. “I’ll throw the apples!”

“If you’re sure…” Courtney gave Sadie the blindfold, clearly doubting her abilities. 

On the Gophers, Noah and Cody were going to war over who was doing what. 

“No way am I letting you hit me with apples,” Noah insisted. “It’s not happening.”

“Who’s to say I’ll hit you? Maybe I’ll get it on the first try.”

“There’s no way-”

“I might-”

“No, you won’t.”

“It takes less effort to stand there with an arrow on your head.”

“Fuck,” Noah muled this over. “You’re right. I hate putting in effort. Fine, I’ll do it. But if you hit me, I’ll kick you in the shins.”

“I’ll call the police on you.”

“I’ll call the police on _you_ -”

“Can we please hurry this up?” Heather demanded. 

Noah and Courtney took their positions, arrows balanced on their heads. 

“And… go!” Chris ordered. 

Sadie and Cody started blindly throwing apples. Duncan had no idea what Sadie was doing. She threw them everywhere except Courtney’s general vicinity. Even when Cody won the challenge and Chris announced a Gopher victory, she just kept going until Courtney screamed at her to stop. 

“Oops! Sorry about that, Courtney!”

“And, the Gophers win today’s challenge! Killer Bass, I’ll see you at elimination!”

_Normally I’d talk this out with Courtney, but obviously I can’t do that… So I guess I’ll just vote for Sadie._

Everybody else must have had the same idea, because she was sent home that night. Katie was on the Boat of Losers to greet her, which Duncan thought was kind of nice. At least she had someone who cared. 

Hardly anybody spoke back at the cabin. Courtney immediately left for her post-loss jog, DJ was despondent about the loss of Bunny, and Geoff and Bridgette felt bad about the entire thing. 

_I’d get him a new one right now, but it’s pitch black out. I don’t know how Courtney’s running. I’d trip on a branch or something. I guess I’ll have to go tomorrow._

At least it gave him an excuse not to talk to anybody. Most of his teammates just went to bed early. By the time Courtney got back, half the team was already asleep.

“Night,” he mumbled as she got into bed.

“Oh. Good night.”

_Huh. I kinda hate being here. Like… everything about this. The challenges. The competition. I don’t even give a shit. And now I have to go meet some random person? Absolutely ridiculous. I just don’t see the point. I’m trapped, as usual. Stuck here to stay awake._

Until he fell asleep.


	11. Struggimento

A/N Here it is, fellas. You’ve earned this. The next chapter, the last of Part One (the season finale, if you will), will be up next Sunday. Enjoy. 

Chapter Eleven

Struggimento: An intense, deep longing for something. 

Breakfast the next morning was a complete bummer. DJ was still inconsolable over Bunny, Geoff and Bridgette were riddled with guilt, Harold was suspicious about Leshawna’s elimination, and Duncan still didn’t know what to do about Courtney. Needless to say, he got out of there as fast as possible. 

He figured he’d solve one problem at a time by finding a new bunny for DJ. 

_No idea how to go about this, but surely it can’t be that hard, right? What do rabbits like to eat? Carrots? I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere._

Unfortunately, the only way to obtain any carrots was by annoying Chef, which was never pleasant. 

“Hey, Chef,” Duncan smiled as he entered the mess hall after breakfast. 

“You again?” Chef asked gruffly. 

“Yep.”

“What do you want? It seems like you’re always asking for some sort of special favor.”

“Oh, well, this one isn’t really for me, but for DJ. You see, Geoff was supposed to be watching his pet bunny, but-”

“Say no more,” Chef put up his hands. “This is for DJ? I love that kid. An artist in the kitchen. What do you need?”

“Carrots.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Chef disappeared into a separate room, only to reappear a moment later with a large bag of full-size carrots. “Here,” he tossed them at Duncan, who barely caught them. “Take them.”

“Ah, thanks Chef!”

“And stop bothering me!”

“We’ll see!” Duncan grinned as he left the mess hall. 

It only took him a minute to realize that he had no idea where to find a rabbit. 

_Do they just hang out in the woods? That’s kind of stupid, right? There’s animals in there that can eat them. Wouldn’t they be better off staying far away from there?_

Biting into a carrot, Duncan walked towards the woods, hoping this wouldn’t be too difficult or take too long. Then again, more time spent in the forest meant less time he would need to spend talking to the other contestants. 

“Hey, Duncan!” A voice called out to him. He shook himself from his thoughts and saw Gwen further down the trail. 

_Damn it. If she’s there, the others are probably nearby…_

“Hey, Gwen,” he waved with the arm that wasn’t bogged down by carrots. 

“Whatcha doin’?” She caught up to him.

“DJ’s bunny got eaten. We said he ran away, but DJ’s been a mess about it, so…” he held up the carrots. “Geoff and Bridgette were begging me to come out here and catch him a new one. I was sick of hearing their whining, so here I am.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Really?”

“I mean, if you don’t mind. It’s just, Trent’s being kind of annoying.”

_Oh, hell yeah. Let’s see what I can get her to tell me._

“Knock yourself out,” he handed her a carrot. 

“Alright,” she took it. “But let’s go? He might be looking for me, so…”

“Sure, sure,” Duncan turned into the woods. “To be honest, I don’t know how to catch a rabbit. I’m assuming you just lure it out?”

“I dunno,” Gwen followed him through the trees. “You should probably stop yelling. You’ll scare them all away.”

“I’m not yelling.”

“Whisper, then.”

“Fine, I’ll trust you, since you’re the expert,” he said in an exaggerated stage whisper. 

“Are you eating the carrots?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t really eat breakfast.”

“Well, stop crunching them so loud.”

_She’s acting so different. Almost like Courtney. Which would be fine, if this was Courtney, but it’s not. Let’s see what I can figure out…_

“So, what happened with Trent?” He stepped over a tangled mess of small bushes. 

“Nothing.”

“Really? You’re hiding with me in the woods because he did… nothing?”

“Fine, I guess-”

“Trent must be the worst boyfriend in the world, doing… nothing. How dare he?”

“Alright, you can stop now,” Gwen smiled. “He didn’t do nothing.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“It’s just… I like to be alone, you know? It’s nothing personal against him, I just want to sit by myself and draw. And Trent just doesn’t get it.”

“You like to draw?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No reason. Me too. It’s not relevant. So Trent won’t leave you alone?”

“Pretty much. I have to hide from him just to get some alone time. I know he’s not trying to be a jerk. He just wants to hang out. But still, it’s really annoying sometimes.”

“Did you try to explain it to him?” Duncan asked, as if he were in any sort of position to give relationship advice. 

“He just doesn’t get it,” Gwen shook her head. “Oh, right there!” She whispered loudly. “I see one!” She pointed to a small rabbit in a bush. 

“Great, now what do we do?”

“You don’t have a plan?”

“I have carrots.”

“That’s just great… Hey! Bunny! Do you hear me?”

The rabbit looked up and stared at Gwen with wide, frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, that’s it!” She smiled at it. “Want a snack?” She stuck a carrot in his direction. “Looks pretty good, right? Come on, Duncan, say something to it.”

“Come on, man. Eat the carrot. Doesn’t that shit look some good?”

Slowly, the bunny crept towards the carrot Gwen held out for it, sneaking closer and closer until he could nibble on the end. 

“Alright, grab it,” Gwen instructed. 

“Why do I have to do it?”

“I’m not the one who came out here to catch a rabbit.”

“Fine, but if he bites me, I’m throwing him at you.”

Quickly, Duncan put his hands on top of the bunny, who seemed completely unbothered. 

“Huh, he doesn’t even care,” Duncan observed. “He just wants food.”

Duncan picked up ‘Bunny’ and cradled him in one arm, feeding him a carrot with his free hand. 

“Mission accomplished, I guess? Thanks for your help,” he smiled at Gwen.

“Ah, it’s nothing. I should be getting back, though,” she started to lead him out of the woods. “Just in case Trent’s looking for me.”

“Hey guys!”

_Speak of the devil._

The moment they were out of the forest, Trent appeared out of nowhere, walking down the trail. 

“Hey, Trent,” Gwen forced a smile. 

“Where were you guys?” Trent asked. 

“Hanging out in the woods,” Gwen answered. 

_Oh, he’ll hate that…_

“Doing what?”

_Jeez, it’s like he’s her dad._

“Just taking Bunny for a walk,” Duncan explained. “Actually, I should probably take him back to DJ, so… I’ll see you guys later?”

“See ya!” Gwen smiled. 

“Yeah, bye,” Trent muttered. 

_Well, those two aren’t doing well. Gwen should dump him, honestly. I called it from day one. But she still doesn’t think he’s doing anything on purpose… It’s not my problem._

Duncan opened the cabin door to find DJ curled up in bed. 

“Hey, DJ! Look who I found!” Duncan called out to him. 

“What?” DJ moaned from under his blankets. 

“Bunny!”

“Really?” DJ flung the blankets off and stood up. “Oh my God! Bunny, you’re back!” He picked up ‘Bunny’ from Duncan’s arms and twirled with him in a circle. “Where did you go?”

“I found him eating this,” Duncan handed the half-eaten carrot over to DJ. “I guess he wanted a snack.”

“Did you want a snack?” DJ asked Bunny. “You can have whatever snack you want, just don’t run away again!”

Since DJ was no longer a total mess, Geoff and Bridgette didn’t feel as guilty, so the general mood of the cabin had greatly improved by that night. It was still uneventful, but at least nobody was on the verge of breaking down, including Duncan. 

_I mean, I don’t want to be here, but I’m not going to cry. Again. And I still have to meet with someone tomorrow… great. I’m so sick of doing these challenges and talking with these people, I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I’m sure tomorrow’s going to be just like today, and yesterday, and the day before. It’s all the same._

“Good morning, campers! Meet at the docks for your next challenge!” Chris gave his signature wake-up call bright and early. 

“You know, guys, I’ve been thinking,” Geoff mused as the team walked down to the docks. “I came here to party, and we haven’t had any parties. So tonight, I’m thinking we have a party on the beach after the challenge. What do you guys think?”

_Fuck…. I really don’t want to go. Maybe I can get out of it._

“Sounds cool,” Bridgette grinned, which was predictable. 

“I’ll go,” Harold nodded. 

“Hard pass,” Courtney shook her head. 

“Aw, come on, Courtney!” Geoff encouraged her. “You should come! It will be fun. Just for a little while?”

“How about this? I’ll go if we win today,” she smiled sweetly. 

“What about you, Duncan?” Geoff gave up on Courtney. 

“Sure, why not?” Duncan shrugged. 

_Fuck. Godamn it. Another thing to dread._

When they reached the docks, Chris was nowhere to be found. Instead, Chef stood wearing camo pants, a tank top, and boots. He held a megaphone and began to scream the moment the campers were in sight. 

“Come on, let’s go!” He barked. “Get moving! Lign up in front of me! Right now!”

Duncan suddenly felt very nervous.

_Why is he yelling at us?_

“Alright, listen up! If I see any of you talk, move, or show any sign of disobedience, you will be punished! Now, I will be running today’s challenge. You will compete in a series of military training exercises. The last man standing wins. Is that understood?”

Silence. 

“Are you all deaf!? Is that understood!?”

Duncan couldn’t help but flinch. 

_I can’t do this._

“Yes, Chef!” The crowd of campers echoed. 

“That’s yes sir!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dude, are you alright?” DJ whispered.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just… don’t do great with yelling,” Duncan whispered back, only because it was DJ and Duncan believed he’d earned at least a little of his trust by that point. 

“Now, here’s what you’re gonna go!” Chef ordered. “Go over by the docks, and each of you are going to hold a canoe above your head! If you drop it, you’re out!”

_Of course. It has to be something with my shoulder. Fuck. I’m gonna get screamed at. Chef is going to scream at me, and there’s nothing I can do._

Duncan followed the other campers to the dock and picked up a canoe, using all of his strength to hold it above his head. He hoped he’d be able to daydream for a while, talk to the other campers, anything to distract himself from the searing pain that was about to start in his right shoulder, but Chef wouldn’t let anybody speak to each other. 

“Alright! Let’s see who the weaklings are around here…” Chef walked up and down the dock past each struggling camper. “You!” He put his face mere inches away from Geoff’s.

“Yes, sir?” 

“Are you weak!?”

“No, sir-”

“I can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“I said no sir!”

“Because I can see those arms are shaking, and that won’t fly in this competition! And you!” He turned from Geoff and screamed at Gwen instead. 

“Yes, sir?” She was struggling for air. 

“What do you think you’re doing with that posture? Straighten up!”

_It hurts so much… And if he yells at me… I can’t let him yell at me. No. Not here. I have to quit. But I can’t be the first person, I have to hold on a little longer…_

Thankfully, Lindsay dropped her canoe, which allowed Duncan to drop his a few seconds later. 

“Both of you, sit in the mess hall until the competition is over!” Chef barked. 

_Well, can’t argue with that. At least he’s not gonna scream at me._

He really didn’t care that he was the first member on his team to be eliminated. Honestly, if they were going to vote him off him, that was on them. It was Chris’ job to keep him in the game. He didn’t sign up for verbal abuse. 

_DJ wouldn’t vote for me, I don’t think Geoff or Harold would, but Courtney and Bridgette might… ah, whatever. I’m not wasting my energy trying to figure it out._

The only way he could get any information about the challenge was through other eliminated contestants in the mess hall, and they weren’t doing a great job at explaining what was going on, so Duncan decided to sit back and wait for the final result. 

In the end, the Screaming Gophers lost. He wasn’t too bothered. 

The team disbanded immediately after the challenge. It had gone for quite a while, so it was already evening. Geoff already spread the word about the party to the other team, so most of the cast was excited about that, save for Courtney, who was going on her traditional post-loss run. 

“Courtney, seriously,” Geoff demanded, “come to the party after your run.”

“I’ll see,” she rolled her eyes. 

_That’s a yes. She doesn’t want to miss out. At least I don’t have to go. Instead, I have to meet with the police, which is probably worse. I guess I’ll go get this over with._

Duncan wandered through the woods, trying to remember the way to Chris’ ‘cottage.’ He wasn’t in a particular hurry. After the challenge, he doubted he’d be on the Island for much longer. 

_It’s possible I’m getting eliminated tonight. Maybe Chris can’t get me out of this one. I’ll have to figure this out on my own… Maybe I can target Harold? Geoff? But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to be here. Fucking up the challenge could be a blessing in disguise to get me out of here. I just have to get this stupid meeting over with._

Chris’ mansion wasn’t too difficult to find in the end. It stood out from the surrounding area like a sore thumb, an elegant house surrounded by dingy woods. Duncan gently knocked on the front door, too nervous to leave any sort of mark, God forbid Chris sue him for damages. 

“Just come in,” MacNeil ordered over an intercom that Duncan was unable to see, “we’re dealing with something.”

“Uh, alright,” Duncan answered. He opened the front door, which was unlocked. He had no idea where he was supposed to go, so he just started to walk. 

“Where am I going?” He ran back to the front door and called out. 

“Stay in the kitchen.”

_That’s not helpful. Where the fuck is the kitchen?_

The last time Duncan was in the mansion, Chris led him around, but he had forgotten where everything was. Duncan decided to pick a hallway at random and start to walk. He considered asking MacNeil for directions, but he didn’t want to be yelled at anymore that day if he could help it. 

He passed by a series of rooms, all of which looked well-decorated and expensive. In the distance, he could hear muffled voices. 

_Must be the cops… It sounds like they’re arguing. Weird. Wait, is that Chris, too? Well, it’s his house. And there’s someone else…_

Duncan snuck up closer so he could hear what was going on. On the other side of a door, he could hear an argument unfolding. Pressing his ear to the wood, he listened in, trying to understand what they were saying. 

“Would you please calm down?” Walsh begged someone. “Take a breath-”

“Not until you tell me where he is,” an unfamiliar voice growled. 

“We already _told_ you,” Walsh insisted, “we’ll let you see him, but you have to understand something first. He’s not the same as he used to be. He suffered serious head trauma, he was in a coma for weeks, he might not even recognize-”

“Do you have any mafia connections?” MacNeil cut in. 

“Excuse me?” The voice answered. 

“Oh, this is great,” Chris chuckled. Duncan could picture the grin on his face. 

“MacNeil, do you really think this is the best time-”

“I’m just asking him a question!” MacNeil insisted. “I mean, we have to make sure none of his threats are credible, don’t we?”

“You’re kidding me, right? You think I called in the goddamn Cosa Nostra? Should I bring in Al Qaeda while I’m at it?” 

“This is official police business,” MacNeil barked. “Take it seriously.”

“How about this? I don’t give a shit.”

_Well, he’s obviously not working for the cops. He hates them. Nice._

“See, I told you not to say anything…” Walsh trailed off. 

“Look, is Duncan here or not?”

_Fuck, that’s me._

“Yes,” Walsh informed him, “but you can’t attack him, alright?”

“I won’t.”

“I don’t trust him,” MacNeil stated. 

_Jesus, this is gonna go on forever. I may as well go in there._

So, Duncan did just that. He yanked open the door and strolled through the doorway into a large living room. Chris sat on a leather couch, not a care in the world. MacNeil stood facing Walsh and some kid wearing black jeans and a sweatshirt, all three of which turned to stare at Duncan. 

_Is this the guy I was supposed to meet? And here I was expecting some chief of police. He looks like he’s my age! Kinda emo-looking, too, with the fringe and all that… is he wearing eyeliner? Shit, and he’s sort of… cute? Not the time. Focus._

There was a brief moment where Duncan looked at each person in the room, waiting for somebody to speak first. Chris was about to fall over with excitement, MacNeil looked pissed, Walsh seemed annoyed, and mystery emo-guy’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly before he fixed Duncan with a cold stare. 

Then, all hell broke loose. 

“What are you doing here?” MacNeil hissed. “I told you to stay in the kitchen!”

“Couldn’t find it…” Duncan murmured, staring back at dark brown eyes. 

“Um,” Walsh looked unsure of what to say, “Duncan, this is Michael Marciano.”

_Oh, fuck, is this Mike?_

“You _know_ that’s not my name,” Not-Mike turned on Walsh. 

_Huh. Guess not._

“Ignore him,” MacNeil ordered. “He’s been saying that all day. He’s a bit, you know…”

“Can I please film this?” Chris begged. 

“No,” MacNeil shut him down. 

“For the last time, my name is _Mal._ ”

“You sent me that letter…” Duncan spoke without realizing. 

_So what’s this guy’s name, then?_

“Oh, hi, Duncan!” Mal flashed him a fake smile.. “I was wondering whether you were going to keep standing there and acting like I didn’t exist! Of course I wrote you that letter, you fucking whore,” he snarled. “I wrote you a bunch of letters, not like you ever wrote back.”

_I have no idea who he is… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. But his voice sounds familiar…_

“Hold on, I only got one letter.”

“So you’re just going to deflect, as you always do,” Mal took a step towards him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I wrote to you a bunch of times.”

“Seriously. I only got one.”

“Oh, we took all of your letters,” MacNeil explained. “Since it was evidence.”

“You went through my mail!?” Duncan spun to face him. 

“Eh, not really,” MacNeil waved him off. “We just took all of the enveloped labeled ‘Rabbit,’ so we didn’t open anything else. He threatened to kill you a bunch of times, and we quickly figured out this wasn’t an actual serial killer, so we were gonna let him go. But then we did a little digging and found out he was there the night you were stabbed.”

“Oh, no way!” Duncan smiled and turned back to face Mal. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before, though. Have we met?”

Mal just stared at him. Duncan thought he might not have heard him, but for the briefest of moments, a look of hurt flashed in Mal’s eyes. 

_Ah, shit. Maybe we were friends or someth-_

If he was paying attention, he might have dodged Mal’s fist before it connected with his jaw, but no luck. Duncan stumbled backwards, pressing his palm against the already-forming redness that would no doubt leave a bruise. 

“What the fuck, man?” He glared at Mal. “What was that for?”

MacNeil was already running towards Mal, probably eager to tackle him. 

“Don’t touch him!” Duncan yelled. “Christ, everyone just chill out-”

“Officer, please!” Chris begged. “Just, imagine the ratings this would get!”

“Would you get out of here?” Walsh was fed up with Chris. 

“Fine, fine!” Chris put up his hands. “I’ll be quiet.”

“You don’t know me?” Mal whispered. 

“I told you,” Walsh gently reminded him. “He has brain damage. He doesn’t remember his time in juvie.”

“Is this true?” Mal turned to Duncan, narrowing his eyes.

“It was a, um, hit to my temporal lobe,” Duncan tapped the side of his head. “And I almost bled out, so-“

“I know,” Mal cut him off.

“Ah. Sorry. Were we friends or something?”

The grimace on Mal’s face revealed he was only making things worse. 

_Ah, fuck. Don’t tell me I, like, dated this guy or something. Walsh even asked me if there was someone back home… was she talking about him?_

“Can we have a minute alone?” Duncan asked Walsh. 

“No way,” MacNeil answered for her. 

“Why not?”

“He could… try something.”

“Well, you want him to help you with the case or something, right?” Duncan tried his classic strategy of extortion. 

“Oh, right,” Mal picked on what was going on. “No fucking way am I helping. Unless-”

“You have ten minutes,” MacNeil didn’t feel like putting up with it, and he probably didn’t care deep down whether Duncan had the shit beaten out of him. “If I hear any sort of distress, I will not hesitate to barge in here. Your time starts now,” he announced. He turned on his heel and left the room, Walsh following him out. 

“Can I stay?” Chris asked. 

“No,” Mal glared at him. 

“Ah, I’m sure Duncan will tell me everything later,” he closed the door behind him. 

A moment ago, Duncan wanted to be alone with Mal, but now that it was just the two of them, he realized it was incredibly awkward. 

“I fucking hate that MacNeil guy…” Mal muttered. 

“Me too,” Duncan walked over to the couch Chris was just occupying and sat down, pulling his legs to his chest. 

“So, you’re a fucking trainwreck,” Mal commented, trying to hold himself together despite being on the edge of breaking. 

“I lost all memory of early November to mid-March.”

“That’s- fuck, Duncan,” Mal started to pace. 

“You can sit down if you want.”

“No fucking way. I don’t want to be near you.”

“Thanks. Who are you, by the way? And who’s Mike? And all of these people who’ve been sending me letters? I’ve tried to figure it out, but I couldn’t.”

That got Mal to stop pacing. He stared at Duncan, pausing for a moment. 

“Well- you seriously don’t remember?”

“I already told you I didn’t.”

“And you’re not gonna say anything?”

“Who am I gonna tell?”

“I dunno, you seem to have a whole bunch of friends here.”

“Hardly,” Duncan snorted. “I can’t stand half these people. I fucking hate it here.”

“Courtney doesn’t seem to bother you,” Mal crossed his arms. 

“She does. Like you wouldn’t believe. The police had to give me scripts so I’d know what to say to her, you know, trick her into liking me so she’d kiss me and shit.”

“Spare me the gory details.”

“So no, I won’t tell anyone anything.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll just kick your ass if you say anything. But- God, it’s really weird re-explaining this to you- Mike has Dissociative Identity Disorder, right? Is any of this sounding familiar?”

Duncan shook his head.

“Fine, well, he has five alternate personalities, but the six of us share one body. So that’s how you got the letters.”

_That’s… I did not fucking expect that one bit. But if I was cool with it in the past, I have to be cool with it now, right? I can’t say anything offensive, this guy will pummel me._

“Jesus Christ, that explains it. I’d never have guessed that.”

“It’s not most people’s first guess.”

“So like… do the others just show up whenever?”

“The other alters? Yeah, basically,” Mal sat down next to Duncan. “Mike will want to talk to you. Heads up, he might cry. You know how he is.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, right,” Mal picked at his sweatshirt. “So if you don’t remember anything, then you forgot… like, everything.”

“Like what?” Duncan rubbed his hands together, just so he wasn’t awkwardly staring at Mal. 

“Stuff.”

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific.”

“Duncan, don’t make me say it. I’ll kill you.”

Duncan looked over at Mal to see what the fuck he was talking about. Sure enough, he was blushing. 

“Oh my God you’re blushing.”

“No I’m not,” Mal vehemently denied what he was saying.

“Yeah, you are. You totally are.”

“Shut the fuck up, I swear-”

“How far did we get?”

“I’m not saying-”

“You have to. It’s not my fault I forgot.”

Mal considered this argument for a moment. 

“If you must know… All the way. Many times.”

“I’m gonna fucking die,” Duncan buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God-”

“You asked!”

“I know!... Was it good?”

“Shut up! Oh my God shut up shut up I’m not answering that there’s no fucking way… I mean, I thought so-”

“Why did you answer!?”

“Why did you ask!?”

“Because I’m fucking dumb, alright?”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“I just wanted to know. Clearly, I’m missing out on a lot of things so- what happened on New Years?”

“We made out on New Years.”

“Of fucking course.”

“Look, I know we have a lot to catch up on, but just talk to Mike really quick before the cops come back, alright? He’s a mess, obviously. And not as good at hiding it.”

“Sure.”

_Finally, the moment of truth… Mike. Mal was obviously upset, but I guess he can hold it together when he needs to. Mike, though, I guess we’ll see…_

He wasn’t sure what it would look like when Mal switched over to Mike, but it was obvious by the way Mike leapt forward and hugged him, pressing their chests together and pinning him to the arm of the couch. 

“Ah, you good?” Duncan wasn’t sure what to do, so he wrapped his arms around Mike’s back. 

“You’re here,” he murmured into Duncan’s shoulder. 

“Yeah.”

“But how… no,” he suddenly broke apart from the hug and stood up, brushing his bangs out of his face and walking away from Duncan. “I’m not doing this.”

“What do you mean?” Duncan sat up and watched as Mike crossed his arms. 

“I already told you. I’m done. With all of this,” he gestured to Duncan. “I don’t want to know how you’re here right now.”

“You’re not even a little curious?”

“Not after what you did.”

“I’ve been having a pretty shitty summer too, you know. I lost a bunch of my memories.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Five months, gone. November to April. I woke up from a coma,” Duncan started to re-explain the entire situation, “with no memory of how I got there, anything from the past few months, nothing. Then the police told me I was being chased by a serial killer, they put me on this stupid show to lure him out, had me kiss Courtney to stay in the game longer, it’s a mess.”

“Right,” Mike turned away from him, “you expect me to believe all that? I know you’re just trying to get out of this. If you hate me, just say so.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Stop it,” Mike insisted. “Stop saying that, alright?”

“It’s true!”

“No, it’s not. Stop lying,” Mike begged him. 

_He almost sounds desperate…I have to get this through his head._

“Look, do you want to talk to my doctors?” Duncan stood up, trying to be serious for once. “I’m not making this up. You were there, weren’t you? The night it happened?”

“Of course I was there!” Mike snapped at him. 

“Then you saw for yourself how bad it was. I still bandage my chest everyday. Should I show you the scar?”

“No,” Mike quickly shook his head. 

“Alright. Then I don’t know what else to tell you,” Duncan sat back down, leaving Mike to consider what he said. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened with Courtney. I broke up with her, actually, just because I was never into her, but the police wanted me to kiss her so I wouldn’t be voted off, and it was this whole mess… But I’m sorry. I know you’re probably pissed at me right now. In my defense, I forgot you existed. Which sounds harsh. Sorry. It’s brain damage. Say something.”

“I just can’t believe it’s over,” Mike stared down at the floor. 

“What’s that mean?”

“You know… us. But I guess you’re already over it.”

_Shit, shit, I’m not good at this stuff. What do I say? Now or never, right?_

“I didn’t know it was over,” Duncan shrugged. 

“What do you mean?” Mike’s head snapped up to look at him. 

“I dunno. If you want to end it, go ahead, but maybe I don’t want you to. I mean, based on your letter, we had a pretty good thing going, right? At least, before all this.”

“You obviously don’t like me anymore,” Mike decided.

“You’re not giving me the chance,” Duncan stood back up. “Maybe I still like you, have you thought of that? Maybe I missed you, even if I didn’t realize it.”

“What are you saying?” Mike stared at him. 

“You know what I’m saying. Fuck, I don’t like doing this type of thing…”

“Do it,” Mike gave a blank stare as he watched Duncan fumble for words. 

“Fine,” Duncan grumbled. “Like, you know. I still want to… like… be with you. If you want me to. Because maybe I like you.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine! I do! Possibly. I don’t know. I think I do? I don’t remember. But I want to.”

_I’m going to die. I literally can’t do this._

“I can’t believe you said it. You look like you’re gonna collapse,” Mike was beaming. “You must really care!”

“I do care! I said I cared.”

“Aww, you look so embarrassed! Kind of cute, actually-”

“So what’s your answer?” Duncan couldn’t wait any longer. 

“I hate fighting with you. But everything’s so confusing now.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Let me just try something…”

“What are you gonna-”

Mike cut him off by pulling him into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Duncan’s neck, pulling him in. At first, Duncan was too shocked to move, but he got his shit together and figured he should probably close his eyes, threading his hand through Mike’s hair. 

“Hmm,” Mike hummed as Duncan ran his hand through the thick, dark strands. 

“You like it when I do that?”

“You have nice hands.”

“No I don’t,” Duncan kissed him again. “They’re covered in burns.”

“I like them. It’s very… you.”

“Your time’s up!” MacNeil barked from the hallway. 

“Of course,” Mike pressed his face into the crook of Duncan’s neck. 

“He’s such a fucking asshole.”

“Don’t be mean,” Mike whispered as he stepped back, trying to fix his disheveled hair. 

“Alright,” MacNeil opened the door. “I hope you guys talked out your differences, because we have to question you,” he pointed to Mike, “and you,” he pointed to Duncan, “have to go to a party, or else you’ll be even more of a social outcast. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”

“The party?” Duncan had no idea why MacNeil was upset. 

“Yeah!”

“I just didn’t think it was this huge deal.”

“Well, get going, alright? Now.”

“Fine,” Duncan sighed. “I’ll go.”

“You can take this, just in case,” MacNeil handed him a small flashlight that would probably be useless in the endless woods.

“Oh. Thanks,” Duncan slipped it in his pocket. 

On his way out of the room, Chris grabbed Duncan’s shoulder, stopping him. Chris looked from Duncan, to Mike, back to Duncan. Then he smiled. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Duncan whispered. 

“Sure, whatever,” Chris smiled. 

Duncan didn’t have too much difficulty finding his way out of the mansion. He must have been fairly close to the entrance. He shut the door behind him, which left him standing in the middle of the woods. The sky was getting dark. 

_Right, how do I get back to the beach? And what if someone asks about the bruise on my face? I really have no idea… Fuck, who even cares? I’ll just pick a random direction and come up with some excuse._

As Duncan started to walk along a trail, he reflected on the past half hour. 

_Holy shit, I can’t believe that just happened. Did I imagine it? Maybe it was all a hallucination. Did we really kiss? I can’t believe it. I mean, that wasn’t just a kiss. That was full-on making out. And it was good, too! Really good! Far better than any kiss with Courtney, that’s for sure. So I guess we’re together now? At this point, I don’t give a shit about getting eliminated. Who cares? I have him now. That’s all figured out. There’s no other reason to stay here._

As it turns out, the path he chose took him to the cabins. He knew how to get to the beach from there, so really, he should have kept walking. Looking back, he had no idea why he decided to stop by the Killer Bass cabin, but for some reason, he did. Just to see if anyone was there. And he wasn’t too eager to go to that party. 

He walked up the steps to the door and noticed that it was slightly ajar. 

_Weird. We usually close it. But considering these idiots, can I really be surprised?_

Duncan pushed the door open and stepped inside the cabin, looking around. It was exceptionally dark, and the boarded-up windows prevented any possibility of light from outside reaching the interior. Nothing appeared out-of-the-ordinary, except for the formless shadow lying on the floor. 

_What is that? I don’t remember anyone leaving something here…_

He considered using his lighter before he remembered the flashlight in his pocket. 

_Who could have left this? Everyone is probably at the party. Geoff, DJ, Bridgette, Harold…_

He fumbled with the flashlight for a moment, searching for the switch. 

_Wait a second, what about…_

Finally, he flicked the latch, sending a beam of light over the large heap on the wooden floor. 

“Courtney?”


	12. Floricide

A/N Massive warnings for blood and gore. Notes at the end. Enjoy. 

Chapter Twelve

Floricide: Killing or killer of flowers. 

He called her name a second time, but she still didn’t move. The flashlight MacNeil gave him only illuminated a small patch of light, so Duncan had to step closer so he could see what was going on. She was curled up in the fetal position with her back to him, so he couldn’t see her face. 

_Jesus, did she fall asleep on the floor? It’s disgusting down there._

“C’mon, Courtney, get up. Oh, wait, don’t tell me. You went to the party, didn’t you? Shit, I should’ve realized Geoff would’ve brought that stuff with him… Well, how much did you have?”

_She’s gotta be a total lightweight. She said herself that she’s never drank before. And Geoff definitely wasn’t monitoring her…_

“Alright, I’ll help you up,” he announced. He thought it would be creepy to pick her up by the torso, so instead, he tried to get her to roll over onto her back so he could hold her hands and drag her up like that. Duncan stared down and wondered how he’d get her onto her back. 

_I don’t want to touch her or anything…_

He settled for taking his boot and nudging her towards him, which seemed to do the trick. Courtney effortlessly slid from her side onto her back with a dull thud that resonated off the walls of the cabin. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Duncan fumbled for the flashlight so he could see her face. “You must’ve really passed out or something, I mean-”

The dim light from his flashlight cast down on her face, cutting Duncan off in an instant. 

She was never going to answer him. 

Her skin, once lightly dusted with freckles, was now seared with black burns trailing towards her neck, all the way down her arm towards her fingers, which were stiff, as if they were clawing towards Duncan’s ankles. The very idea made him step back. She was looking right at him- that is, her eyes were pointed in his general direction, but there was nothing there. No sign of recognition, no hint of annoyance for waking her up. Complete vacancy. 

Duncan knew she was dead. Realistically, he understood there was nothing he could do for her there, and that he should call the police. Get help. Do _something._

And yet, he found himself unable to move. He couldn’t pry his eyes away from her face. 

_There’s something in her mouth…_

Scanning the flashlight back across her face, he squinted as he tried to figure out what it was. 

_What the fuck… flower petals. Rosa Rugosa. I don’t… what the fuck?_

He inched away from her body-

_Because she’s just a body now. Not Courtney. Just a body._

-when he felt his boot sticking to the ground. In a panic, he jerked his flashlight to the floor, revealing a trail of his own dark red footprints. Slowly tracing the path back to Courtney, he realized what actually killed her. He hadn’t noticed it in the dark, but sure enough, a pool of blood had begun to seep out from under her, leaking from a gaping wound in her chest. 

_Oh, God…_

Call it self-torture, but something compelled him to look. He leaned over her body and looked down, bracing for the worst. 

Her chest had been hacked to pieces. Small chunks of flesh splattered in every direction, sticking to the fabric of her blouse, clinging onto the matted tangled of her hair, and finally spilling across the floor. Her blood, black in the night, overflowed her ribcage and poured down the sides of her body, drenching Duncan’s shoes. His flashlight reflected the jagged edges of her ribs, and a few feet away, another puddle caught his eye. Stepping away from her body, he traced a separate trail of blood with the light, following the path to the wall. 

_What is that…_

Trying to avoid the shrillest floorboards even though nobody was around, he made out a few words carved into the wall. 

_Tha mi an-còmhnaidh an seo… Jesus Christ…_

Duncan quickly spun around to make sure he was alone. When he saw nobody sneaking up on him, he looked below the words and found Courtney’s heart, still warm and dripping blood, stabbed into the wall with a butcher's knife. 

That’s what shook him out of his stupor. 

He stumbled back to his bed, nearly tripping over Courtney’s body, and blindly groped his suitcase until he found his earbuds, clicking the buttons with shaking hands and putting them in his ears. 

“Yeah-”

“Dead. She’s dead. Courtney.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t- oh, God, it’s fucking horrific-”

“Duncan, where are you?”

“Cabin.”

“Stay there. By the door. Don’t let anybody in, alright? No matter what. Nobody can know about this. We’ll be right there.”

Instead of walking over to the door, Duncan just stood there. The door was still wide open. Anybody could have walked in and seen what was going on. Rationally, he knew he had to close the damn thing, but his feet weren’t moving and he didn’t want to step over Courtney’s body, so he settled for standing in the middle of the room. 

“What are you doing?” MacNeil barked when he entered the cabin, flashlight in one hand, gun clutched in the other, Walsh jogging behing him. “I told you to guard the door, didn’t I?”

Duncan just stared at him.

“Well, are you just going to stand there? Step out of the way. Walsh, go clear the perimeter- what are they doing here?”

He was referring to Chris and Mike, who were standing in the doorway. 

“I didn’t think it was safe to leave them alone,” Walsh defended herself. “We don’t know if he’s still out there.”

“Woah,” Chris grinned. “Looks like you guys are gonna have a lot of paperwork to fill out, eh?”

_How is he making jokes right now? Does nothing ever bother him?_

For his part, Mike looked terrified, staring at Courtney’s body with wide, frightened eyes. 

_I should go over there…_

“Walsh. Go. He could still be out there,” MacNeil ordered. She appeared uncertain, then nodded, leaving to circle the cabin. 

“What, so the Marlboro Murderer got to her?” Mal asked, looking bored as he walked inside. 

_I guess Mike got scared…_

“We can’t say for sure,” MacNeil leaned over her body, staring at the gaping wounds on her chest. “But realistically… yes. Almost certainly. Unless there’s someone else on this island who’d so something like this.”

“Wait, he’s here on the island?” Chris stepped far away from the cabin food. “Since when? Do you understand the lawsuit that’s gonna come from this whole thing?”

“Seriously?” MacNeil glared at Chris. “You’re worried about a lawsuit?”

“Well, yeah! Dead minor on the property? And she was- gross- totally stabbed a bunch of times?” Chris got a proper look at her body. “They could sue me for millions.”

“I can’t believe you,” MacNeil shook his head. 

Meanwhile, Mal snuck over to Duncan and wordlessly held his hand. Duncan couldn’t take his eyes off the floor, but he still squeezed Mal’s hand, just to show he appreciated the gesture. 

“I couldn’t find anything,” Walsh announced as she returned to the cabin. “Wherever he is, he’s not here.”

“Damnit…” MacNeil hissed as he smashed his fist against one of the nearby wooden walls. Duncan noticed Mal’s grip become noticeable tighter. “He could be anywhere… We have to call for backup.” 

“What’s in her mouth?” Walsh peered at Courtney’s face. 

“Rosa Rugosa,” Duncan murmured. 

“Speak up!” MacNeil ordered. 

“Rosa Rugosa,” Duncan cleared his throat. “It’s a flower she liked.”

“How’d he know that?” Walsh pondered. 

“He must’ve been following her,” MacNeil decided. 

“He was always here,” Duncan spoke barely above a whisper. 

“How do you know that?” MacNeil demanded an explanation. 

“It’s on the wall,” Duncan shrugged. “Right there,” he nodded to the writing. MacNeil scanned his flashlight over the letters. 

“That’s gibberish,” MacNeil shook his head. 

“It’s Gaelic. ‘I am always here.’ So…” Duncan trailed off. 

“Is that her heart?” Walsh discovered the heart stabbed through the wall. 

“Oh, that’s fucking sick,” Chris grinned. 

“Everybody needs to get out of here,” MacNeil announced. “This is a crime scene, you all need to get out. Walsh will escort you back to the house- why are you holding hands?” He asked Mal and Duncan. 

“Why the fuck do you care?” Mal fired back immediately. 

“Jeez, fine. Duncan, go to the party. Pretend like nothing’s wrong.”

“What? Do I have to?” Duncan seriously doubted his ability to hold it together. 

“Yes. You need to show up and act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. If anyone asks if you saw Courtney, say you don’t know where she is, and change the subject. Can you do that?”

_No. No way._

“I guess so.”

“Good. Chris, you have to go out there and say the cabins are off limits. Roach infestation. They’re being fumigated. Nobody can enter. They’ll get all of their stuff back soon.”

“Fine, whatever you say,” Chris rolled his eyes. “Where are they supposed to sleep?”

“I dunno, the beach? Make it a camping trip.”

“And what about the elimination ceremony?”

“The what?”

“We’re supposed to send someone home.”

“Cancel it. Forget it.”

“That’s not how the show works,” Chris insisted. 

“I don’t give a shit,” MacNeil hissed. “We have to deal with this first.”

“Do you want to go the party?” Mal whispered. 

“No.”

“Tell him that.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Duncan tried to explain. “I don’t get much of a say around here.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Never said I did.”

“Do something about it.”

_There’s no fucking way I’m going to that party and sleeping outside. I just can’t do it. I could get stabbed out there._

“MacNeil, I’m not sleeping out there. I’ll go to the party for a bit and do that stuff you told me, but that’s all.”

He expected a huge fight, but to his surprise, MacNeil was barely paying him any attention. 

“Yeah, whatever, just go.”

“Ah, alright. Um, thanks,” he said for some reason. “See you later,” he murmured to Mal, letting go of his hand. 

Duncan followed Chris down to the beach, where he knew he’d suffer through another conversation. 

“So… did you fuck him, or what?”

“I can’t believe you’re talking about that right now.”

“Why?”

“Courtney’s dead, and this is what you care about?”

“Oh, don’t be like that. Bleeding heart. Here, walk in front of me so they don’t think we showed up together.” 

Duncan didn’t know if the gathering on the beach could be called a party. Since there weren’t a ton of contestants left, so the remaining campers were split up into their cliques, standing around and talking. 

_Please, just let me get this over with…_

“Hey, Duncan!” DJ smiled when he saw him approaching. 

“About time you showed up!” Geoff waved him over. “Where’ve you been?”

“Ah, just chilling.”

“Is Courtney with you?”

“Haven’t seen her. I thought you convinced her to show up?” Duncan tried to be convincing. 

“Me too! But she’s not here,” Geoff shook his head. “And this party is kinda lame, by the way. Sorry. Everyone broke off into their own groups, so the whole thing fell apart, and I didn’t want to waste alcohol on it…”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Duncan shrugged off his concerns. “Not a big deal.”

“Hey, what’s on your face?” DJ wanted to know. 

_Fuck, I thought it’d be too dark for him to notice…_

“Ah, shit, is that still there? I thought I got all of it off… It’s just dirt from the woods, but it’s really sticking for some reason.”

_Dumb. So fucking dumb. Who would ever believe that? What’s he gonna say if it’s still there tomorrow? At least there’s not enough light here for him to see clearly…_

Thankfully, Trent stepped in before DJ could ask any more questons, which was probably the only time Duncan had ever been thankful to see him. Gwen was glued to his arm. 

_I’m sure he’ll try to make me look bad. What’s the point? I’m so over this shit._

“Hey, Duncan!” Trent flashed him a smile. “Where were you? We missed you!”

_I’m sure you did._

“Ah, you know. Just hanging out in the woods.”

“Really?” Trent looked puzzled. “Seems like you’re always out there by yourself.”

“Yep.”

“Kind of weird, no?”

_He’s just not subtle. He really needs to work on how to get under people’s skin._

“Nah.”

“What are you doing out there?”

_See, watch and learn._

“Drawing, mostly. I was out there earlier, but it got too dark, so I came back here.”

“Oh, yeah!” Gwen lit up and let go of Trent’s arm. “We should totally meet up and draw together!”

“Totally! That would be so cool!” Duncan encouraged her. 

“Trent just doesn’t get it,” Gwen punched Trent’s arm playfully. 

“Hey, that’s alright,” Duncan grinned at him. 

“Art’s just not my thing,” Trent shrugged, trying to act like this wasn’t bothering him in the slightest, even though Duncan could clearly tell he was pissed that he had something in common with Gwen that her boyfriend couldn’t relate to. 

“Listen up, campers!” Chris announced. The campers looked around in confusion to find the source of his voice, only to find Chris standing on the beach. 

“Hey, Chris!” Geoff cheered. “Are you here to party?”

“No!”

“Oh.”

“I’m here to give you a few announcements! First of all, both of the cabins are being fumigated due to a major roach infestation, so you can’t go over there!”

“What about out stuff?” Lindsay looked panicked. 

“Don’t worry about it! We’ve removed all of your bags. However, if you try to enter the cabins, you will come into contact with several toxic chemicals, and I wont be held liable for that! Alright? No lawsuits!”

“Chris, man, where are we gonna sleep?” Trent asked him. 

“I was just getting to that! Tonight, you will all be sleeping right here on the beach! Isn’t that exciting?”

His announcement was met with a series of groans and complaints. 

“Now, now, hang on! As a reward for sleeping outside, there will be no elimination ceremony tonight!”

“Guess you’re safe, then,” Trent nudged Duncan. 

“Hmm? What’s that supposed to mean?” Duncan spun on him.

“Oh, nothing.”

_Who the fuck cares. I’m sure they were gonna vote me off, but I don’t blame them. It doesn’t matter now._

“That’s all for now!” Chris smiled. “I’ll see you all tomorrow morning!” 

With that, he disappeared back up the trail. 

_Now, how long until I can get the fuck out of here?_

“Hell yeah, no elimination!” Geoff beamed. 

“Hey, guys!” Bridgette walked up to the group.

“Where were you, Bridge?” Geoff asked. 

_Fuck, now they’re using nicknames? Vomit._

“Trapped in a conversation with you-know-who… Heather,” she whispered. “Probably looking for more allies.”

“Gross,” Gwen rolled her eyes. 

“So, what do you guys wanna do?” Geoff wondered. 

_This is my chance._

“Not to be lame, but I’m probably gonna find a place to lay down and get some sleep,” Duncan decided. “Not to ruin your vibes or anything.”

“Aw, are you sure?” Geoff was disappointed. 

“Yeah, I didn’t really sleep last night. I’ll see you guys in the morning, though?”

“Totally!” Bridgette smiled, probably relieved she didn’t have to vote him off. 

“Good night, guys,” Duncan said his farewell, eager to get out of there. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” DJ asked. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Duncan reassured him. “I’m all good.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

Duncan walked towards the woods, then when he was out of sight of the woods, he ran as fast as he could to Chris’ mansion, more confident that he knew the directions. 

_That was awful. I hated every second of it. I’m gonna puke._

The moment he reached the front door, he flung it open and slammed it shut behind him. Officer Walsh was waiting for him. 

“I have to lock it,” she stepped past him to lock the door. “Follow me.”

He trailed behind her as she led him to the kitchen, where Mike, Chris, and MacNeil were already sitting down. There appeared to be some sort of debate going on. 

“We have to get them off the Island,” MacNeil demanded. “As soon as possible.”

“I’m not cancelling the show,” Chris stated. “No way.”

“Of course not,” MacNeil shook his head. “We have to keep the show going.”

“Wait, what?” Duncan stepped in. 

“This is the closest we’ve come to catching him. We can’t give up now,” MacNeil nodded. “But this whole island is a crime scene, and we need to investigate without anybody here. And, you know, keeping all of these teenagers on the island when we know there’s a serial killer here… it’s a liability. We’ve already called for backup, they should be scouting the island as we speak, and forensics is working on the cabin. Walsh and I have to go meet with them in a few minutes. We’ll leave someone here with you guys, and Duncan, we’ll have to question you later. I just don’t know where we can continue the show.”

“I can search for other islands nearby?” Walsh offered. 

“No, that’ll encourage him to leave the scene. We want him to stay where he is. If he starts travelling, we might never find him,” MacNeil explained. 

“We can use the film lot?” Chris offered. 

“What’s that?” MacNeil asked. 

“It’s on the shore of the lake. The studio keeps all of their production equipment there. Obviously it’s not ideal, but if it’s between that or cancelling the show…”

“Fine,” MacNeil approved. “That’s fine.”

“Wait, we’re not going home?” Duncan asked in a panic. 

“Why would you think that?” MacNeil smiled at him. 

“You’re fucking kidding me. Because he… got to, Courtney. Now we’re gonna try and lure him out again? How does that make any sense?”

“Look, what happened with Courtney was a real tragedy, and we’re going to look into it,” MacNeil declared. “But this is proof we’ve caught his attention. We can’t waste this opportunity. Clearly, you’ve caught his attention. So, we’re moving forward with our investigation.”

“I… no. No fucking way. Absolutely not- I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore. He _killed_ someone. I’m not staying here.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No! I’m not doing it!”

“Duncan!” MacNeil snapped. “When are you going to get this through that thick skull of yours? You’re going to do whatever we tell you to do because you don’t have any rights! You do realize you belong to the state, right? How do you think we were able to bring you out here? Do you think we would be able to do this to any random teenager? How do you think we were able to bring him here?” MacNeil nodded to Mike, who stared back at him with wide eyes. “What do you think you’d be going back home to? You can’t just go wherever you want, you know. You’d have to finish out your sentence. This is the best deal you’re gonna get! Now, get your shit together, because tomorrow, you’re gonna have a lot of questions to answer, alright?”

Duncan had never wanted to punch somebody so badly in his entire life. 

_Don’t fucking yell at me…_

He held the wooden chair in front of him in an iron grip, convinced he’d splinter the wood into pieces, just so he wouldn’t deck MacNeil right in the face. 

“Chris, when can you have that film lot ready? Can you do it by tomorrow?” MacNeil demanded to know.

“I don’t see why not,” Chris shrugged. 

“You!” MacNeil spun to face Mike. 

“Me?” Mike looked shocked that MacNeil spoke to him directly. 

_If he yells at him, I will throw punches._

“You’ll be staying here for a while and helping us with the investigation. Since you’ve seen the Marlboro Murderer before, we need you to help us identify him if we do manage to find him.”

“Oh, um, ok. I mean, I haven’t seen him up close or anything…”

“But at least you’ve seen him _at all,_ and that’s more than we can say for anybody else.”

“I’ll have to call Josh and Amy-”

“Fine. I don’t care what you have to do, just do it. And we’ll have to find a job for you to do, give you a reason to hang around. Maybe you can be one of Chris’ interns-”

“No way,” Duncan interrupted. “Chris treats his interns like complete shit, and we all know it.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Chris murmured. 

“We’ll figure something out,” MacNeil really didn’t care. “And Chris, tomorrow, just tell the campers that Courtney got sick and had to go home. We’ll deal with her family. Duncan, it goes without saying that you don’t know anything about her ‘illness,’ alright?”

“Yep.”

“Good. I trust none of you will leave this house tonight. Walsh and I have to go meet with forensics, we’ll have an officer posted outside.”

With that, MacNeil stalked out of the house, Walsh following close behind, leaving Duncan, Mike, and Chris alone in the kitchen. 

“So…” Chris broke out into a grin.

“Nope, not doing this,” Duncan cut him off and began to walk away. 

“Fine… Mike?”

“He’s not doing this either,” Duncan answered for him.

“What am I not doing?” Mike wanted to know. 

“Chris is a total creep.”

“Oh.”

“You guys are no fun,” Chris pouted. 

“How about this. Is there anywhere we can sleep?”

“Oh!” Chris smiled. “Sleep as in-”

“Chris. Please. I’m begging you. This has been such a fucking horrible day, I just want to fall asleep.”

“Fine, fine. Upstairs.”

“You coming?” Duncan asked Mike. 

“Oh. Sure. Bye, Chris,” Mike stood up from his chair and left to follow Duncan. 

“You’re gonna love working for me,” Chris was beaming.

“He’s not gonna work for you!” Duncan insisted. 

It took him a while to find the staircase Chris was talking about, and once he did, climbing the stairs felt like running a marathon. He chose a bedroom at random, prying off his shoes and collapsing into bed with all of his clothes, not caring about dirtying the sheets. Mike was standing in the doorway still. 

“Do you want an invitation?”

“Sorry,” Mike spoke quickly as he took off his shoes. 

“Don’t apologize.”

“Also, I don’t know who’s clothes I’m wearing. The police just gave them to me.”

“That’s really gross,” Duncan murmured into a pillow. 

“I know,” Mike sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have this fear they took them off a murder victim and now I’m wearing them, and it’s bad luck somehow.”

“Dude.”

“I know. Too soon. Sorry.”

_I don’t know how we slept whenever we shared a bed. Does he like cuddling? I feel like it’s weird to ask that._

“So, like, how do we do this?” Duncan asked as he leaned on his side facing him. 

“What?”

“Do I hug you or something?”

“Here,” Mike wrapped an arm around Duncan’s ribs and pressed his face up against his chest, letting Duncan bury his face in Mike’s hair. “Just… lie there.”

“Doesn’t seem too difficult.”

“Hope not. You were in a coma, right? You should be an expert by now.”

“Ouch. I knew you weren’t that nice.”

“Wait, I’m sorry-”

“No, no, stop apologizing. It’s funny.”

They both lied there for a moment in the darkness. 

“I think I’ll have a nightmare tonight,” Duncan decided. 

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Not your fault.”

“Just try and sleep, alright?” Mike asked in a small voice. 

“I always try.”

“I know.”

And Duncan did try. And he eventually fell asleep. And of course, he was right about the nightmares, where he saw Courtney’s face, stained and scarred by burns, and a shadowy figure disappearing into the night, always just out of his reach. 

A/N Thank you all for sticking around this far. Since I will always try to be transparent with you guys, I don’t know when I’m going to start posting Part Two. Originally, I wanted to start by October, but I just started college and I’m already getting slammed. I don’t want to torture myself with this story and have it be one of those things where I force myself to write until it’s no loner enjoyable and I dread opening up a google doc, or I have a mental breakdown staying up all night trying to write this fic when I have an exam the next morning and I just post shitty chapters. So with that being said, here’s what I can tell you. I will finish this story. I won’t update every week with incredibly long chapters, but I’ll work on it, and I’ll keep it good quality, so don’t worry about that. I love reading all of your comments, and it makes me so happy that people out there have liked this story. All the best, and I’ll see you all at some point in the future.  
-StarryEyesAndSkies


	13. Iris

A/N at the bottom. Let’s go. 

Chapter Thirteen

Iris: A flower that symbolizes eloquence. 

_You know, this is kind of fucked-up._

Duncan woke up in one of Chris’ spare bedrooms at 5 in the morning. No surprise, he slept like shit. Then again, it had to be better than sleeping on the beach, where the rest of the campers were gathered. 

Or being dead.

_Like I said. Rough night._

His other problem was currently laying on top of him, sound asleep. For all of Duncan’s eagerness to track down this Mike guy, he was quickly realizing that it may not have been the best idea. In fact, it was probably a terrible idea. 

_Think about it. I don’t know anything about him, but he knows everything about me. That’s never a good position to be in. I don’t even know what he did to get arrested. It had to be something pretty bad if he’s been there since at least December. Then again, I was there in November, so I guess I can’t judge. Wait. Are his parents alright with him being here right now? That has to be kind of strange, right? Most parents wouldn’t be alright with that. Well, I guess my parents are, but they’re thrilled to get rid of me. Oh fuck me, do his parents hate him? Is he a complete lunatic? Maybe he’s one of those guys that tortures animals in the woods and shit… No, chill out. But still, he’s obviously got some issues, I suppose. At least Mal does. I have to remember, with that first letter, when he found out I was still alive…_

“Duncan!” Chris hissed as he shoved open the bedroom door. 

_He wanted to kill me._

“What?” Duncan snapped at him. 

“Hmm?” Mike muttered in his sleep. 

“Get the fuck up!” Chris ordered. 

“What time is it? It’s pitch black outside!”

“Five in the morning.”

“What do you need me to do at five in the goddamn morning?”

“Was goin’ on?” Mike sat up and rubbed his eyes. 

“Oh, Mike. Sweet Mike. Don’t worry about it,” Chris smiled. “I have something planned for the two of us. As for you, Duncan, go to the beach and pretend like you’ve been there all night.”

“Fuck… fine. Wait, what do you have planned?”

“It’s a secret,” Chris smiled. “Sorry Duncan, you’re out of the loop now.”

“Thank God. I never wanted to be in the loop.”

“See how he treats me?” Chris asked Mike. 

“What?” Mike wasn’t paying attention at all. 

“Alright, have fun, I’m going to the beach,” Duncan slid out of bed and grabbed his shoes, which were sitting near the door. 

“Bye!” Mike beamed. 

“Yeah. See ya.” Duncan pushed past Chris and started his walk down the hallway. 

_Better not get too close. Not until I see what he’s actually about._

Duncan managed to find the front door relatively quickly. There were a few police officers sitting in the kitchen who barely paid him any attention. 

_It’s right fucked that they’re just letting me walk out here alone. Actually, why’d they let a group of teenagers sleep on the beach when there’s a serial killer on the loose? Now, that lacks common sense. Well, the cops aren’t gonna give a shit if I say anything. They must have checked the perimeter or something. I mean, how could they possibly be sure he’s not hiding out somewhere?_

For that reason, Duncan moved relatively quickly through the woods. It was still pretty dark out, and he didn’t feel like getting hacked to pieces. Speaking of which,

_Did they just leave her body there? They must have moved it by now, right? Fuck, don’t think about that..._

He desperately tried to get the image of last night out of his mind before he reached the beach. Thankfully, everybody appeared to be asleep. He didn’t have an excuse in mind in case somebody saw him walking towards the rest of the group from the woods, and he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to bullshit something on the spot. 

_I probably would’ve said I was going for a walk. That seems to have been working so far…_

Gwen and Trent were curled up in the sand together, which made Duncan want to vomit. Everybody else was sprawled out across the beach. 

_Jeez, Chris didn’t even give them blankets? It’s cold as fuck out here…_

Duncan definitely wasn’t going back to sleep, so he figured he may as well sit down for a while. He made sure to stay a fair distance away from everybody else. Just because he couldn’t sleep didn’t mean he had to wake up someone else and drag them down with him. They all probably slept like shit too. 

He took the opportunity to stare out onto the lake. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon, sending rays of light reflecting off the water. It was nothing like the ocean, but for a moment, Duncan let himself pretend like he was back home, looking at the Atlantic in the middle of the night instead of some shitty lake at five in the morning. 

Before the cameras and Charlie getting arrested and all of that shit going down, Duncan used to sneak out of the house and meet up with his friends in the summer. One of them had parents who didn’t give a shit, something Duncan always envied, so he’d take his shitty family car and drive without a license all the way to the coast. Duncan’s friends never let him sit in the front seat since he was one of the shortest, so he’d press his face against the window and watch the shadows outside the car fall behind. 

They would always go to the same run-down beach, if you could even call it that. There was no sand or anything, just pieces of broken seashells that crunched beneath their boots. Nobody ever went swimming- the Atlantic on the Eastern Coast was freezing, no matter what time of year. But they’d smoke and listen to shitty emo bands on someone’s broken IPod, and everything would be alright for a little while. 

And then he had to stop. 

_I wonder if Mike’s ever been to that beach…_

“Hey.” 

_Damnit._

He looked over his shoulder to see Gwen standing just behind him. Duncan turned back to stare at the lake. 

“Hey.”

“Mind if I sit?” She asked in a low voice, careful not to wake anybody up. “I don’t want to interrupt anything. You know, if you want to just sit there and think.”

_At least she gets it._

“Sure, go ahead,” he answered without turning around. She cleared a spot on the sand and sat down on his right. 

“You didn’t come back last night,” she noted, tracing patterns in the ground with her fingers. 

_Shit, I should’ve realized she’d bring that up._

“Nope. I went to bed, remember?” 

_Don’t give more detail than you need to._

“Hmm. Why didn’t you stay?”

“I just wasn’t in the mood. I guess I was tired.”

It was a bullshit excuse, and she knew it. 

_That’s such a giveaway. ‘I’m tired.’ That’s what they all say. It’s the universal term for when you have something going on. It would’ve worked on anyone else, but she’ll see right through it._

“Don’t feel like talking about it?” She offered him a smile. 

_Oh, nice. That’s my way out. Thanks, Gwen._

“Not really,” he shrugged. 

“Well, it’s probably for the better that you left. It kind of sucked.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, everyone pretty much talked for a while in their own groups. It was basically what we usually do, except we were on the beach. Also, sleeping outside? Awful.”

“Totally. I slept like shit.”

_I think I deserve a pass on this one._

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

_Fuck._

“Sure.”

“What do you think about Trent?”

_Oh my God, we’re doing this? Seriously?_

“Whaddya mean?”

“I don’t know, just, what do you think?”

_Alright. Don’t bash him. Say you have no opinion. If you say you don’t like him, then she’ll run back and tell him and you can’t fuck with him anymore. At least I still have that going for me._

“I mean, I don’t really know him that well. He seems alright. At least, I don’t have a problem with him. Why, did something happen?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Really?”

“He may have off-handedly mentioned something about you not liking him.”

“What, Trent doesn’t think I like him?”

“I don’t know. Yes.”

“I’ve barely spoken to the guy. Did I say something? Did you notice anything?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t notice you doing anything to upset him.”

_Jeez, I’m better than I thought._

“And I told him that,” she continued, “but I don’t think he believed me.”

“Well, then, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know,” Gwen insisted. “I mean…” she turned around to make sure the other campers were still asleep. “Look, promise you won’t say anything?”

“Of course not.”

_Not to the other campers, at least._

“I think Trent thinks…” she took a breath, “that you like me.”

_Bingo. It’s too perfect. Oh, I have to get Mike in on this._

“What?” Duncan gasped in mock surprise. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You must have guys back home tripping over themselves to land at your feet.”

“Oh my God, shut up.”

“Seriously, Trent and now me? You’re quite the heartbreaker, Gwen.”

“I told you it was a crazy idea.”

“No, no. Let’s think about this. Who else could be one of your secret admirers? Ooh, I bet Harold is itching to get back into the game since Leshawna left. Maybe Trent should watch out?”

“Fine, fine. You’ve had your fun. I kept trying to tell him you were dating Courtney anyways.”

_...Ah. Shit. That hurt._

“Actually, I’m not.”

“What? For real?”

“Nope. We’re not together. Totally not a thing at all.”

_Because… She’s not alive. She’s dead. Courtney is dead._

“Ah, shit. I totally misread that then.”

“It’s alright. I guess I can see why you thought that.”

“But still, it’s not true.”

“What’s not true?”

“You don’t like me?”

_She’s not believing me. Trent must have really gotten this into her head. Great, now the only sort-of friend I have thinks I like her. Fucking fantastic._

“Well, Gwen, despite your irresistible charms, no. I don’t have feelings for you.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll take your word for it. Sorry, I know it was probably weird of me to ask-”

“Did you think that I did?”

“I mean… yes. For a bit. Before the whole Courtney drama-”

“I actually have, like, a thing with someone else,” he explained, just so she wouldn’t talk about Courtney. 

“Oh?” She broke into a smile, immediately interested in what he had to say. “A _thing?_ Do tell!”

_This is what people do, right? They talk to their friends about their problems. Not a big deal. It’s not like I’m giving her any specifics. And this’ll get her off my back about the whole “liking her” thing._

_And she won’t mention Courtney again._

“Well, if you _insist_.”

“Please. There’s literally been no gossip around here. It’s so boring.”

“Bullshit, there’s always gossip.”

“Yeah, but like, there’s no relationship drama that I actually give a shit about.”

“Besides your own.”

“Fuck off. But yes.”

_Nice to see the whole Cody-Noah situation is still under the radar. How hasn’t she picked up on that? I swear, I’m just a magnet for finding out things I shouldn’t._

“Well, I don’t know how interesting this’ll be, but here goes. Basically… there’s a guy.”

“There’s a _guy_ ,” she repeated, not pressing further. 

_Well, if she doesn’t ask, I’m not gonna tell her._

“From back home,” he continued, “and I don’t want to give all the details, but some shit went down,”

_That’s an understatement,_

“and like, I feel like I’m not totally sure where we stand?”

“Just talk to him,” she shrugged. 

He gave her a blank stare.

“What?” She asked. 

“Like… talk to him about what?”

“You know. Tell him how you’re feeling.”

_Great. I should’ve known this would be useless._

“Oh. I mean, I guess.”

_I’m absolutely not going to do that. Gross._

“You look like you’re about to vomit.”

“I’m just not a big fan of talking about my feelings.”

_And what do I even say? ‘Hey, sorry I forgot you existed, but could you do me a favor and tell me your life story?’_

“Yeah, I’ve picked up on that by now.”

“So what do I do?”

“Suck it up.”

“Oh.”

_Nah._

“Something tells me you’re not going to do that.”

“I mean… thanks for the advice, it’s just a really weird situation.”

“Hmm… sure.”

_She doesn’t believe me. She probably thinks it’s some petty bullshit that could be fixed with a simple conversation. Oh, well. I can’t tell her everything._

“And please don’t tell Trent any of this.”

“Of course not.”

_I still have plans for him._

They sat there quietly for a few moments, looking out over the lake. Even though the sun was barely peeking above the horizon, he could clearly see the water due to the strong light cast off the moon. He wished he had some sort of jacket with him. Despite the summer temperature, the island was still fairly cold at night, especially close to the water. 

_I need to look through that bag the police gave me… maybe they packed one. Although I doubt it. MacNeil would love to watch me freeze out here._

“Do you ever think about the moon?” Gwen wondered as she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to generate warmth. 

“Huh?” Duncan had partially forgotten she was there. 

“I don’t know, like, the moon. Do you ever think about it?”

He looked over to see her staring up at the sky. 

“Nope. Not really.”

“Oh,” she murmured, a note of disappointment in her voice. 

“Uh, I’m an Aquarius, if that means anything.” 

_It doesn’t. Wait, I don’t even know Mike’s birthday… I hope it’s not, like, tomorrow. That would be a disaster._

“I don’t know what that means,” Gwen shrugged. 

“Then what’s the deal with the moon?” 

“I just like it,”she explained. “You know, how many people have looked at the same moon we’re looking at right now?” 

“Everyone, I guess.”

“That fucks me up to think about…I wonder if-”

“Hey guys!” Trent’s voice echoed from behind the pair. 

_Right on schedule. I wonder how long he’s been awake? He probably saw us sitting alone unsupervised and sprinted over here._

“Hey, Trent,” Gwen sighed. 

“What are you talking about?” Trent wedged himself between Gwen and Duncan, causing both of them to shift apart from each other. 

“Nothing,” Gwen scrapped her conversation with Duncan. “Just complaining about the fact that we had to sleep outside.”

“Oh, that was brutal. Duncan, we didn’t see you last night! Where’d you go?”

_So this is what he really wants to talk about._

“To sleep.”

“Where?”

“You want my coordinates?” 

“I just was wondering where you went is all.”

“How ‘bout this? Next time I fall asleep, I’ll make sure to give you a call just so you know exactly where I am. Unless… Trent, is this a sexual thing? Are you trying to _sleep with me?”_

“Wait, what-”

“Sorry, I’m not interested.”

“No!” Trent was panicking. “Oh my God, no. No. I don’t, um, I’m not-”

_Fucking hell, chill out._

“Dude, relax. I’m messing with you. If you must know, I fell asleep over there somewhere,” Duncan gestured vaguely to the woods. “I just didn’t want to be near all the noise.”

“Right… I guess I did ask you a lot. Sorry.”

_And he ends up apologizing to me!_

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Look, the sun’s coming up,” Gwen spoke up, trying to change the subject. 

“Maybe it’ll finally warm up,” Trent mumbled. 

_Damn, I really want to leave, but it’ll be so obvious that it’s because Trent’s here. So I guess I’ll just have to third wheel quietly for a bit. I hope Chris shows up soon…_

Gwen and Trent spoke quietly amongst themselves while Duncan drew in the sand. He feared that Trent would ask about Courtney, but he had been scared out of asking any more questions for the time being. 

“Good morning, campers!” Chris’ voice echoed from the loudspeaker, waking up the other campers and saving Duncan from any more time spent with his least favorite couple. 

“Damnit, Chris, really? It’s so early!” Heather yelled from the other side of the beach. 

“How’s everybody doing?” Chris ignored her concerns as he appeared from the woods. “I hope you all slept well!”

“We didn’t,” Bridgette grumbled from the sand. 

“Are the cabins clean?” Gwen stood up. “Do we have to sleep outside again tonight? It’s freezing out here!”

“About that!” Chris clapped his hands together and smiled. “We’re actually going to be changing things up a bit!”

“Oh, great. What now?” Noah crossed his arms. “Did you steal our luggage?”

That caught Harold’s attention. 

“Chris! My comic books!”

“Everyone chill out! Your luggage is fine. Harold, nobody touched your comic books. Believe me, we didn’t want them.”

“It’s alright, Harold,” DJ comforted him. “I’m sure they’re very interesting.”

“Thanks, DJ,” Harold nodded. 

“So, Chris, what's the new thing? I mean, how are we changing things up?” Cody asked, trying to seem disinterested despite the fact that he was obviously very interested. 

“Well!” Chris recaptured everybody’s attention. “We’ve decided that we all need a change of scenery. You know, keep things interesting for the viewers. So, we’re leaving the Island!”

“Bro, this definitely wasn’t in the contracts,” Geoff complained. 

“Wait, where are we going?” Trent asked, appearing unfazed. 

“The film lot offshore. It’s where we keep all of our equipment.”

“And we’re supposed to _live_ there?” Heather asked, completely disgusted. 

“Or you can stay here and sleep outside?” Chris offered. “Or if you really want… volunteer to go home?”

“No,” Heather spoke quickly. “I’m fine. I’m perfectly happy to go to the film lot.”

“Does anybody else have any objections?” Chris asked as he scanned the crowd. “Should I get anybody a plane ticket home?”

_I can’t believe nobody else is questioning him. This is so suspicious. The show is literally called Total Drama Island, there’s no reason for us to go anywhere else. They must realize there’s something off… I guess they don’t want to risk losing out on the million. If he threatens to send home anybody who questions him, nobody will speak up._

“Wonderful!” Chris smiled. “Now, if you’ll all come with me to the docks, you’ll be taking a boat offshore. We’ve already moved your luggage.”

“Now?” Lindsay rubbed her eyes. 

“Yep!” Chris insisted. “Right now! Get moving!” 

One by one, the campers stood up from the sand to follow Chris. 

“This is so weird,” Gwen whispered to Duncan as she stood up. 

“I know, right?” Trent answered as if she asked him. “But I guess that’s just Chris for ya!”

_At least that got me out of answering._

Duncan wanted to trail behind the other campers alone, but he didn’t want to call any further attention to himself, so he stuck with DJ in the middle of the pack, not saying much. 

“Alright, everyone hop on!” Chris gestured to a sketchy-looking boat in the lake. “Come on, get on there!”

“Chris, dude, are you sure that thing isn’t gonna fall apart?” Geoff stared at the boat. 

“It’ll be fine,” Chris insisted a little more forcefully. 

_He must be anxious to get us out of here…_

Duncan glanced over the edge of the boat and into the water as he stepped onto the deck. He clenched the side of the boat, hoping he didn’t get a splinter from the rickety frame. 

“Alright, that’s everybody!” Chris declared once everyone was on the boat. “Now, let’s-”

“Wait!” Gwen spoke up. “Where’s Courtney?”

_And, there it is._

Duncan tried his best to look nonchalant. He had no idea what Chris would come up with. Had he worked out a story with the police? 

“Courtney has gone home,” Chris announced. 

“What? Why?” Gwen wanted to know. 

“She had to deal with some family issues,” Chris stated matter-of-factly. “She won’t be coming back this season. That’s all I’m allowed to say at this time.”

Duncan had to hand it to him. Based on the way Chris was acting, nobody would be able to discern that all hell had broken loose a few hours ago. 

Duncan could feel all eyes on him. 

“Is everything alright?” DJ asked. 

“Fine,” Duncan shrugged. “I don’t know what happened with Courtney, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sorry she left, man,” Trent nudged him. 

_Don’t touch me… He’s probably pissed. With Courtney out of the picture, he thinks he has more competition for Gwen._

“Alright, we’re leaving!” Chris declared, eager to end all discussion of Courtney. 

“I thought you had a yacht,” Heather crossed her arms. “Why’d you have to shove us onto this thing? It looks like it’s falling apart.”

“That was a rental, Heather,” Chris sighed. 

“A rental!?” She couldn’t believe it. 

“Yes, do you understand the concept?”

Duncan tuned out the argument unfolding and looked at the lake. The sky was brighter now, with orange rays from the sun hitting the side of the boat. 

_It’s so weird of Chris to ride on this boat with us… He must be desperate to get out off the Island. I wonder if the police found anything that freaked him out. Well, besides the obvious… Did they get Mike out of there? There’s no way they left him in any danger, right?_

Thankfully, the ride back to shore wasn’t that long. The moment the boat hit the ground, Chris announced, 

“Alright, everybody out!”

The campers trailed off the boat and onto the shore. Duncan took a look around. He had to say, although the film lot seemed less creepy than the Island on the surface, it still deeply unsettled him. There were rows of warehouses and scattered wooden crates strewn about the asphalt. 

_Plenty of places for someone to hide…_

“So where are we supposed to sleep?” Noah looked around, clearly unimpressed. 

“Excellent question, Noah!” Chris appeared to be more relaxed now that they were off the Island. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping!”

Chris started to lead them through the maze of warehouses. From a brief glance, the other campers seemed to be more confused than nervous. 

“Alright, here’s where you guys will be sleeping for now!” He gestured to two sheds that had been prepared in a hurry. “Killer Bass, that’s yours, and Gophers, you go there!” 

The sun had come up by that point, fully illuminating the sight of the dilapidated shacks. Duncan couldn’t give a shit as long as he wasn’t still on the Island. He was perfectly fine sleeping in a rundown shed. 

The others weren’t so pleased. 

“Chris, are you serious? We’re supposed to sleep here?” Gwen looked at the sheds in disdain. 

“Eww,” Lindsay wrinkled her nose. 

“I promise they’re nicer on the inside!” Chris grinned. “We just put them together. Brand new.”

“So you didn’t plan for us to be here?” Trent raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not taking any further questions. If you don’t like it, you can leave,” Chris glared at Trent.

“My bad,” Trent put up his hands. 

“Good. Now, that’s the only announcement I have. Good luck finding the dining hall,” Chris waved as he started to walk away. 

“Wait!” Cody called after Chris. “Do we have a challenge?”

“Shut up, Cody,” Geoff hissed. 

“There’s no challenge today! We have to get some stuff ready,” Chris yelled behind his shoulder. “And it’s every other day, remember?”

“Dude,” Trent shook his head. 

“I just wanted to know!” Cody tried to explain himself. 

“You’re like that guy who asks the teacher whether she’s assigning homework,” Noah shook his head as he buried his head in a book that he managed to bring along. 

“No I’m not!” Cody insisted. 

“You are. You’re that guy”

“Noah, _you’re_ that guy. That’s something _you’d_ do.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Noah stated simply. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Can we please just go inside?” Gwen begged. “I’m exhausted.”

“Good idea,” DJ smiled as he turned back to his own team. 

“Yeah,” Geoff yawned. “I’m- Jesus, Duncan, what happened to your face?” 

Immediately, the entire cast turned to look at him. In the past two hours, Duncan had totally forgotten about the bruise on his face. It was still dark out, and nobody had mentioned it. 

But now, it was daylight. 

“Shit dude, what happened?” Trent asked him. 

_Fuck. Shit. What excuse did I think of? Oh my God. Say something!_

“Ah, it’s nothing. I tripped in the woods last night. Face first into a rock. It was a great time.” 

_Awful. Just terrible._

“Alright…” Trent looked at him like he was insane. “Sorry to hear about that.”

“Oh my God, who cares? Can we just go to sleep?” Heather interrupted, saving him from further questioning. 

“I second that,” Geoff was already on his way towards his team’s ‘cabin.’ “I slept like shit last night…” 

Eager to get out of the conversation, Duncan followed close behind Geoff. When he opened the door, it was immediately clear that Chris had thrown together their living quarters in less than a day. It was essentially a small room with five beds crammed inside, and a pile of suitcases carelessly tossed onto the floor. It wasn’t a step up from the cabins, that was for sure. 

“Ah, shit,” Geoff looked at the luggage as the rest of the team filtered in. “Whose is whose?” 

“That one’s mine,” DJ nodded as he closed the door. 

“Here ya go,” Geoff passed him a suitcase, which he accepted. 

Duncan didn’t want to risk anyone touching his luggage, so he quickly grabbed his suitcase and bag the police gave him. 

“Oh, thank God,” Harold beamed. “Chris left my comics alone…” he sifted through a backpack. Bridgette carelessly tossed her suitcase underneath her bed and collapsed on top of the mattress. 

_I really need to go through this bag… But these guys might ask about it. God forbid there’s like a gun or something in here?_

Instead, Duncan shoved his bags under the bed and sat on his mattress, back against the wall so he could look at the other campers. Geoff was already half-asleep. 

“So guys,” Harold cleared his throat. “What do you think’s going on? Like, really going on?” 

“Who cares? Let’s just sleep while we can,” Geoff mumbled into his pillow. 

“Why, you think something’s up?” DJ asked, never one to dismiss the concerns of a teammate. 

_Damn his good nature._

“Well… I think there’s a conspiracy going on here,” Harold spoke in a hushed tone, eyes widened for dramatic effect. 

“Yeah?” Bridgette perked up at that. “What kind of conspiracy?”

“I dunno,” Harold shrugged. 

“The conspiracy is why none of you are letting me sleep,” Geoff complained. 

“Why do you think there’s a conspiracy, Harold?” DJ ignored Geoff’s complaints. 

“Doesn’t this whole thing seem weird to you? Chris makes us sleep outside, then he shoves us off the Island? What was the point of trying to get rid of a roach infestation in the cabins if he was gonna make us leave the next morning anyways? And then Courtney goes home?”

“You think something happened to Courtney?” DJ’s eyes widened as well as he snuck a glance over at Duncan. 

_Damn it, now I have to step in…_

“Alright, look, Harold, I love a good conspiracy as much as anyone else, but I honestly think we’re just on a shitty TV show with a low budget and Chris didn’t plan ahead. And for Courtney, I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just had stuff to deal with at home, just like Chris said. I mean, what’s the alternative? Sure, it’s TV, but the law still applies. They can’t just have minors go missing.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harold sighed. 

“It’s definitely weird, but I think it’s just that. Weird.” 

“Duncan’s right,” DJ hid under his blankets. “I mean, maybe they couldn’t get rid of the roach infestation, and that's why we’re here. But it’s probably not deeper than that.”

“Do you guys think there’s roaches in our luggage?” Bridgette asked, voice full of concern. 

“Better check, Bridge,” Geoff mumbled with a smile. “Thought you liked animals?”

“I do! But I don’t want them in my clothes…”

The conversation slowly trailed off from there. Bridgette and Geoff fell asleep pretty quickly. Harold skimmed through a few comic books. 

_Should I try and fall asleep? It’s gonna fuck up my sleep schedule forever. I mean, it’s probably 8:30, how am I gonna sleep tonight? Should I try and sneak out of here? What would I even do? I have no idea where Mike is, and I’ll definitely get lost out there…_

And yet, he was exhausted. He could count on one hand the hours of sleep he got last night. He didn’t know how he was supposed to sleep on the same Island where… that night’s events had taken place. 

Speaking of which, he had no idea how he’d possibly keep his shit together for much longer. 

_I mean, what if he… the Marlboro Murderer… could he be here right now? Leaning up against the door, eavesdropping on our conversations? How many times did he watch us walk right by him while he hid in the trees, just out of view, if that’s even what was going on? He could’ve reached out and grabbed one of us, pulled us into the woods… No, no, stop it. Calm down. You’re surrounded by people. How could he even get to you right now? He’d have to get past all five of you. Chill out. There’s nothing you can do right now._

The thought still wasn’t comforting. However, Duncan was quite literally trapped. He couldn’t just leave the shed and stroll around by himself. He settled for lying down and trying to block out everything going wrong in his life until he fell asleep. 

In a way, it was a blessing that he barely slept the night before. At least it allowed him to fall asleep _relatively_ quickly. It was more like a half-asleep, kind of dreaming phase where he stared into the darkness. He must have actually fallen asleep at some point, because he woke up to Geoff complaining. 

“Ugh… does anyone know what time it is?” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. 

“I dunno, like, two?” Harold shrugged. 

“How do you know?” Geoff stared at him. 

“Just a guess, based on the positioning of the sun and how it comes through the cracks in the ceiling. I dunno.”

“That doesn’t seem very reliable,” Bridgette glanced over at him. 

“Ok Bridgette, do you have a better method?”

“Hey, who wants to grab some lunch? Or dinner?” DJ asked, always ready to break the tension. 

_Well, I can’t stay here alone, so…_

“Sure, I’ll go,” Duncan sat up in bed. 

“Wait, does anyone know where we’re going?” Bridgette asked. 

“I don’t think Chris told any of us…” DJ trailed off. 

“Great, now we have to navigate this place. Creepy.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we’re safe,” Geoff assured her, much to Duncan’s disgust. 

_What are you gonna do, Geoff? Bludgeon any potential enemies with your cowboy hat? Chill out, man._

Even DJ rolled his eyes ever so slightly. 

_Interesting._

The team made their way out of the shed, all of them squinting at the sudden change in light. They were surrounded by a sea of empty warehouses. Nothing that would help them find their way. 

“I say we go this way!” Geoff decided, choosing at random. “It’s as good as anything, right?” 

“Isn’t that the way we came?” Bridgette questioned. 

“I’m sensing it’s this way…” Harold stared off into the distance as if he were having some sort of epiphany. 

“Why do you say that, Harold?” DJ was getting fed up, but trying to keep his patience. Between Bridgette and Geoff in their weird relationship-thing, Courtney leaving, not eating, and now getting lost, the team was on the verge of a brawl. 

“I just know. My ninja training has provided me with a keen sense of direction.”

“Sure, Harold, go ahead. Lead the way,” Duncan encouraged him because he honestly didn’t give a shit. As long as he was with the group, who cared if it took a little extra time to get there? He just wanted them to start moving. 

“Thank you. Now…” Harold took on a look of concentration as he began to walk. “If we just follow the path set out before us…” The rest of the team followed behind him. One glance revealed that Geoff had an arm wrapped around Bridgette, which Duncan ignored. 

“Just to be clear,” DJ whispered, “if he gets this right, it’s by chance.”

“Oh, totally. I mean, there were only, like, four ways to go. Lucky guess.”

They walked for a little while longer before coming to what appeared to be a dining hall. Once again, the building looked like it had been hastily prepared. 

“See!” Harold smiled. “I told you guys this was it!”

“Yeah, great job, Harold,” Geoff was clearly preoccupied. DJ opened the door to the dining hall. It was much smaller and darker than the dining hall on the Island. Really, it was just a few tables scattered about. Duncan wasn’t even sure if there was an oven back there. Somehow, the Screaming Gophers were already sitting inside. 

“Well well, look who finally showed up,” Trent smiled in that way where he was clearly joking, but he was also thrilled that his team was doing better at something. 

Duncan ignored him. He just couldn’t do it. DJ managed a slight wave. 

“Chef left spaghetti on the counter,” Noah spoke without looking up from his book. 

“Thanks,” Duncan murmured. He found the pot of spaghetti Noah was referring to and scooped some into a smaller bowl. 

“Weird that Chef’s not here…” DJ wondered. 

“Eh, maybe he’s just busy?” Geoff wondered as he grabbed a bowl. 

Nobody was in the mood for conversation, which was quite fortunate. Duncan couldn’t handle anybody else questioning the circumstances of their move from the Island. 

The Gophers mostly kept to themselves, only speaking up to tell the Killer Bass that it was a little past 2 PM, before they left the dining hall. 

“So, who’s up for a challenge tomorrow?” Geoff tried to make conversation. 

“Hmm,” Duncan gave a noncommittal hum of agreement. He looked up from his spaghetti and over Geoff’s shoulders. 

And saw Mike standing right there. 

Well, he wasn’t _right_ behind Geoff. He stood at the back of the room. The moment Duncan caught his eye, he broke out into a grin, tilted his head, and walked out of the dining hall. 

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” Duncan stood up, taking his bowl with him to put back on the counter. 

“Have fun,” Geoff called out. 

“Yeah, thanks…” Duncan put his bowl down and walked over to the doors of the dining hall, pushing them open and stepping outside. 

Mike was leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed, looking down at the ground. He looked better than he had the night before. He wasn’t wearing the old clothes the police stuck him with, at least. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Mike looked up at the sound of Duncan’s voice. 

“I figured I’d say hi,” he shrugged. “Wait, were you busy?” He asked, eyes full of worry, as if taking Duncan away from whatever he was doing would be some sort of terrible sin. 

“No,” Duncan snorted. “I was stuck inside with those clowns. Actually, let’s get the fuck out of here before one of them tries to talk to me.”

“Is there drama?” Mike whispered. 

“I guess so…” he started to walk, Mike quickening his pace to catch up to him. 

“Duncan, you have to tell me about the drama. Please. You know I love that stuff.” 

“No I don’t.” 

“Well, I do.”

“Really?” Duncan glanced over at him. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

“I don’t want to get _involved_ in the drama… I just want to know about it. I don’t want to be confused later on. Anyways, it’s really boring around here.”

“I thought you were supposed to hang out with Chris. Didn’t he have plans?”

“Yeah, he wanted me to do acid with him.”

_Makes sense._

“Well, did you?” 

“No! Of course not.”

“...Pussy.”

“Shut up. What was I gonna do _after_ the acid? Sit there quietly? It just wasn’t practical. And don’t act so tough. You would _cry_ if someone offered it to you.”

“Nope. I would be totally cool. Probably say yes.” 

“Nah-ah,” Mike fiddled with his hands. “I’ve seen you turn it down before.”

“Forget that happened. Where are we going?”

“I dunno, I thought you were leading the way.”

“I’ve never been here before. Aren’t you leading the way? Didn’t they give you a tour or something?”

“Chris tried to get me on drugs. They didn’t give me shit.”

Duncan stopped walking and looked around. There were just more warehouses. 

“What do you think Chris keeps in there?” Duncan wondered. 

“Dunno…”

“Wanna find out?” 

“Are we allowed?” Mike asked, eyes wide. 

“What are they gonna do, arrest us? Come on,” Duncan started off towards the closest warehouse, Mike following close behind him. 

_I wish things weren’t so awkward… I just don’t know what to say to him._

“It’d be pretty crazy if there were, like, vampires in there,” Mike murmured. 

“What?”

“Like, that would be crazy. If that were to happen.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Duncan was baffled. 

“I’m not saying there’s vampires in the warehouse. But if there were… that would be bad. We’d be totally unprepared.” 

“Yeah, I guess so. In your hypothetical situation, we’d be fucked,” Duncan reached the door. He paused for a moment. 

“Are you gonna open it?” Mike stood noticeably further behind him. 

“Now I kind of don’t want to.”

“Aww. Why not?”

“What? You were the one who said there were monsters in there. Now you want me to open the door?”

“You’re standing closer, anything in there would attack you first. I would run away fast enough.”

“Nah, you see, I’d angle my body like this,” Duncan dramatically pressed his back against the building, “so it wouldn’t even see me. Evasion tactics. You, on the other hand, are in the direct line of fire.”

“Not how it works,” Mike shook his head. “It’s gonna know you’re closer.” 

“How’s it gonna know? It can’t see me.”

“It can sense you. Like in _The Sixth Sense_.” 

“Haven’t seen it.”

“Me neither. But I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about.”

“Look, I’m just gonna open the door.” 

“Fine. I’m going with you, then,” Mike started to walk over to him. 

“So we can fight it off together?”

“Nah, you’re my human shield.” 

“How kind of you.”

“But if it comes after you, I will fight it off. Complete bloodbath,” Mike spoke with absolute seriousness. 

“Thanks for that.”

“Of course,” Mike smiled. 

_Scared of vampires? Weird…_

Duncan opened the door, and of course, nothing happened. Mike breathed out a small sigh of relief. Duncan badly wanted to ask if Mike actually thought there would be monsters in there, but he thought that was something he was supposed to know, so he kept his mouth shut. 

“Alright, the coast is clear,” Duncan announced, peering into the warehouse. “Not too dark, either.”

“What’s in there?” Mike whispered. 

“Let’s find out,” Duncan smiled, stepping into the warehouse. 

_This might actually be a dumb idea. Serial killer on the loose and all…_

But he didn’t want to freak Mike out, so he decided against saying anything. With Mike close behind him, he looked out at rows and rows of costume racks filled with various types of clothes. 

Which reminded him. 

“What are you wearing?” He asked Mike. 

Apparently, Mal had some strong feelings about the subject. 

“Ok, can you believe this shit? They put me in khakis. Unbelievable. I’m pissed.” 

“Why’d you choose khakis?” 

“I didn’t _choose_ them. This is what all of Chris’ interns have. I’m supposed to wear this uniform so I’ll blend in or some shit.” He picked at the maroon button down shirt and white cotton t-shirt Chris had selected for all of his interns. 

“I dunno, I think it suits you.”

Mal looked up in horror. 

“Chill, I’m kidding.” 

“Ok but… I don’t _know_ if you’re kidding. I don’t _know_ what you know.”

“...Fair, I guess. Just wear something else. You have a ton of options,” Duncan glanced over at the racks of clothes. 

“Oh, hell yeah…” his eyes lit up. “Let’s see if we can all agree on something…” 

“Do you guys fight?” Curiosity propelled him to ask. 

_Is that rude to ask?_

“Hmm? Of course, we’re all very different, so… Conflict is inevitable.” 

_God, I have so many questions… And I’m sure I knew the answers! But I don’t want to ask again. It must be annoying to re-explain things. Especially important things that I probably seem like an asshole for forgetting._

“Chuck Taylors are not ‘deviant,’” Mal muttered to himself. “They’re the champion of shoes. Exactly. Versatile… Sorry, give me a sec…”

Duncan took this moment of debate to wander aimlessly around the aisles. He almost tripped over a pile of shoes that someone had left strewn on the floor. There wasn’t anything there of much use. Most of the clothes were old and covered in dust. Duncan poked through a mess of hats on top of a shelf. He took note of an old fedora.

_I should bring this with me… But why?_

Fedora in hand, he turned back to find Mal. 

He had apparently won the Chuck Taylor debate, as he sat on the floor of the warehouse pulling on a black pair, his discarded sneakers next to him. He also swapped out his red shirt for a black one. 

“I had to compromise on the khakis,” he complained. “It’s too suspicious to take jeans from a warehouse. I don’t know where they’ve been. I’ll find a belt though!” He finished tying his shoes and stood up. 

“I got this. For you.” Duncan held out the fedora, praying that it held some sort of significance and he didn’t look batshit crazy. 

Mal just stared at him blankly. 

Then, he sighed. 

“Fine,” he sighed and took the hat, placing it on his head. Immediately, his whole demeanor changed. 

“Ay, Duncan!” He pulled Duncan into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re back, mate! Not dead, are ya?”

“Ah, nope. I’m not.”

“And now we can go on adventures,” he spoke into Duncan’s neck. 

“Sure.”

“Aw,” he pulled back from him. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Let me think for a sec, yeah?”

_Shit. Well, I can guess which letter he sent, but that doesn’t help…_

“You like treasure hunting and wild animals?”

_I hope that’s right…_

“Exactly!” He beamed. “But, my name is Manitoba Smith, in case you forgot! Don’t worry, I’m not offended, what with your brain being all wonky now. You can still come on adventures, right?”

“I guess so? Yes?”

“That’s good, then,” Manitoba nodded. “You had me worried there for a second! I need someone to be my sidekick, after all.” 

“Wait, why-”

“No arguments! You agreed that you’d be my sidekick. You can’t just double back!”

“Alright, alright, I won’t double back.”

“Good!” He took off his fedora and put it on Duncan’s head, switching back into Mike. 

“Well, at least the outfit isn’t too bad…” Mike examined his clothes. “Mal wanted to rip the khakis to shreds. Nice hat.” Mike took the fedora from Duncan and held it in his hands. “Wait, are you wearing eyeliner?”

“Um, yeah…”

“Where’d you get that? Can I have some? All of mine came off in the shower, so…” 

“Right. Sure,” Duncan reached into his pocket and pulled out the tube of black eyeliner he kept in there. “I mean, how do you want to do this?”

“You can do it,” Mike shrugged. “If you want.”

_Fuck. My heart is pounding. Damnit._

“Are you ok?” Mike stared at him. “You look like you’re gonna collapse.”

“Nope,” Duncan cleared his throat as he uncapped the eyeliner, “I’m all good.”

“Alright.”

They just stood there staring at each other. 

“So, are you gonna-”

“Sorry,” Duncan stepped closer.

“You’re blushing so much right now. It’s crazy.”

“Ok, do you have to call me out?” 

“Sorry. One more thing?”

“What?”

Mike pulled him into a kiss. Which turned into a sort-of makeout session. Duncan ran his hand through Mike’s hair, while Mike settled both of his arms on Duncan’s shoulders. 

“This isn’t how you do eyeliner,” Duncan murmured. 

“Your hands were shaking too much anyways. I would’ve looked like a raccoon.” 

“Hmm…” 

When they finally finished, Duncan realized he had to get back to his team. The last thing he needed was to draw more suspicion to himself right after last night. 

“Sorry, who’s Trent?” Mike asked as he walked with Duncan back to the shed that housed his team. 

“He’s the worst. He carries a guitar with him, and thinks I’m obsessed with his girlfriend.”

“Gwen?”

“Yes. And he tries to be cool, but he’s not. He’s just the worst. He ruins everything. But I have a long-con going right now that’s gonna break him.”

“What is it?” 

“You’ll see. I promise you’re part of it. Just… if you see him, go along with what I say.”

“Ok!” Mike nodded in affirmation. “But why do you hate your team?”

“It’s just so boring. Like, they’re nice and all, but Bridgette and Geoff are insufferable at the moment, and we usually just end up sitting there awkwardly.” 

“They don’t play?”

“Play what?”

“...Poker.”

“Why would that matter?”

“Nevermind. Well, there’s your stop,” Mike stopped walking and gestured to the sheds before Duncan could question what he meant. 

“Ah, great,” Duncan sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Will do!” Mike pulled him in for one last kiss. “Have fun,” he smiled. 

“I won’t,” Duncan kissed him back, “but thanks anyways. You’re fine to walk back?”

“Of course. You think the police trust me to go anywhere? They’re always tracking me.”

“That’s… good, I guess.”

He walked towards the shed that housed his team, preparing for a night of complete boredom. 

_Well, at least we have a challenge tomorrow._

A/N Wow, that took a while. But I said I wouldn’t abandon this fucker! No idea when I’ll have the next chapter, but it won’t be another six month wait ;)  
Also, I have a YouTube channel now. Cringe! It’s like satire and parody stuff (in English and Spanish!) and has absolutely nothing to do with Total Drama. But, if you want to check it out, it’s here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQ3FBjbn3Rj4wIUZ49pCq_g  
That’s what I got for now! Thanks for reading!


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